


i’m the diode, you’re the kerosene

by dizzyondreams



Series: lesson / confession / i need you be near me [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, First Time, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Season/Series Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Trifecta, a lot of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10028456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: In five years, Eugene had run over this exact scene in his mind too many times to count. Sometimes, he’d yell. He’d curse him out, hit him if he was feeling particularly pissed off that day. Try and get it through his thick, mad skull that waking up alone on that train was the final nail in a coffin that Eugene had taken too long to claw out of. Other times, Eugene imagined embracing him, breathing in the familiar smell of sweat and gun oil as he silently forgave him for it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> watch me throw out this 28k word fic into the ashes of this fandom because i rewatched this show at christmas and couldn't get the concept of a fix-it fic out of my head. i hope y'all enjoy it, i'll post it in four big chunks because i know how much it sucks waiting for multiple updates lmao
> 
> there are some warnings: both snafu and eugene suffer with ptsd throughout the fic in different ways. this is in no way a fic where Love Heals All, it's just that i think they deserve an honest shot at happiness and i wanted to explore how important it is to have a shoulder to lean on when you're all bad brains! there are also some liberal uses of the q slur, which considering the way eugene and snafu use it (not as an insult but from a place of period typical ignorance towards being gay) i thought it'd be best to warn for. there is also a point (in a later chapter, and i'll warn for it again) where snafu references past parental abuse. that's all i can think of!
> 
> ALSO: snafu speaks creole french occasionally here, and some euro french as well just because as hard as i researched (and i dug DEEP) i couldn't find some phrases and i mean, there's no google translate for it lmao. i'm like too old for this shit but i've hopefully managed to put hover text translations in this just for like, ease of reading! so just hover over the word and ur good to go
> 
> anyway enjoy this is a labour of love and i NEEDED ... some good old fashioned fix-it fic

He was wearing a white shirt, Eugene remembered. It made his skin look darker, and the collar seemed stiff and uncomfortable around his neck. He kept tugging on it, either out of nerves or because it was tight, Eugene didn’t know. He wasn’t sure why this was the thing he focused on, not those wide, lamplit eyes, not the nervous twist of his hands or the way he looked so alien in Eugene’s home. The white shirt, the chest pocket tented over a pack of smokes, and that tight collar. 

In five years, Eugene had run over this exact scene in his mind too many times to count. Sometimes, he’d yell. He’d curse him out, hit him if he was feeling particularly pissed off that day. Try and get it through his thick, mad skull that waking up alone on that train was the final nail in a coffin that Eugene had taken too long to claw out of. Other times, Eugene imagined embracing him, breathing in the familiar smell of sweat and gun oil as he silently forgave him for it all. Neither of them were in their right minds on that train, he couldn’t blame him. In his daydreams, Snafu would always press his face into his neck and murmur an apology, and that would be enough.

But now, confronted with it, Eugene found himself speechless. It was late evening, and shadows were beginning to pool in the corners of the room, throwing Snafu’s nervous, rigid expression into relief. He was as skinny as he’d been during the war, Eugene noted absently, and for some reason that realisation released the stranglehold on his vocal cords. For a moment, Eugene was afraid of what he was going to say, but when he spoke, voice raspy with surprise and emotion, he said, “That shirt looks horrible on you.”

Snafu’s face was still for a moment, and then cracked into a wide, relieved smile. He laughed, a little frantic, nothing like how he used to. The way he used to laugh would make anyone feel like the butt of the joke, but now Eugene could see he was just nervous. Changed. “Dunno why I wore it.” He said, and the slow Cajun drawl was like a punch to the stomach. “Wouldn’t’ve if I’d known you’d be rude.” He undid the top few buttons of his shirt, and Eugene led him out onto the front porch.

Packing and lighting his pipe was one of the few things from the war Eugene had let himself hold onto. It was methodical, calmed his mind, like a ritual. Snafu was sprawled out on the step below him, a cigarette already in his mouth. They lit their respective smokes from the same lighter, and Eugene pocketed it as he inhaled slow. 

“So I guess you’re staying?” He murmured around the mouthpiece of his pipe, watching Snafu’s profile in the low light. He was drinking him in, trying to work out if the lines around his eyes were new, trying to prove to himself that he remembered him perfectly. Snafu was pursing his lips, an old nervous tic that Eugene was quietly delighted he still recognised.

“Guess so.” Snafu said slowly, eyes gazing off into across the darkening lawn. The corner of his mouth quirked in a sudden smile, and Eugene wondered what he was amused about. How they’d so quickly fallen back into comfortable silence? The buzz of cicadas was a far cry from the sound of bullets, but maybe it wasn’t so different at all. The two of them, smoking, saying more with a glance than with words. When Snafu turned, pressed his cheek against his shoulder and fixed Eugene with those huge, pale eyes, any smart comeback died on his lips. He looked exhausted, beaten down, and Eugene wanted to smooth the premature wrinkles from the corners of his eyes with his thumbs.

He settled for a sharp nod as he glanced away, worrying his pipe between his teeth until it creaked. He wasn’t going to get an apology, but maybe Snafu’s sudden reappearance was Snafu’s own emotionally stunted way of saying he was sorry. He couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t toyed with the idea of doing the exact same thing.

“You look good.” Snafu piped up, mumbled around his cigarette. When Eugene glanced at him, he was smiling and for a moment Eugene lost his train of thought. God, he’d missed that. That conspiratorial smile that made you feel like you were in on any joke, and wildly outside of it when it wasn’t aimed at you. “Missus Sledge been feeding you up good an’ proper, huh?” 

Eugene looked down with a laugh, worrying his pipe between his fingers before sticking it back in his mouth. “I’ve put on a few pounds, if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, leaning back on his elbow. “You haven’t.”

“Working my ass off, aren’t I?” Snafu said with a shrug, leaning a shoulder up against the railing as he slouched. He looked more like himself now, with a cigarette in his mouth and his shirt unbuttoned. More like the Snafu from Eugene’s memories, who called him ‘Gene’ and saved his ass more times than he could count. 

Eugene wanted to ask him where he worked, where he was living, whether he had a girl, saw his parents, whether he woke up sweating from dreams where he watched his own death played out in front of him. But there would be time for that, and that time wasn’t now. Eugene had a more pressing question, that he wasn’t sure needed asking and was completely certain wouldn’t get a straight answer. “What’re you doing here, Snaf?” He said, and it came out a little more concerned than he meant it to. 

Snafu just grinned at his feet and shrugged. He raised his hand, the one with his cigarette between his fingers, and shook it. “Itchy right hand.” He murmured, quiet beneath the sound of the cicadas. 

Eugene stared. “Excuse me?”

Snafu tipped his head back and laughed, flicking his cigarette butt away before he said, “Old Cajun superstition. If ya right hand is itchin’, you’re gunna come across an old friend.”

“Right.” Eugene said slowly, a smile spreading over his face when Snafu snorted at him. “So that’s it?”

Snafu didn’t reply for a second, gazing out across the dark lawn. The sun had set while they were talking, and his face was shadowed, expression impossible to make out. “That’s it.” He said, too casual. Eugene waited, but he didn’t say anything else, just lit another cigarette and stayed quiet. 

They smoked in silence, Eugene going through every possible reason why Snafu would be here, sitting on his porch, smelling like sawdust, with his seabag in tow. Before long, he exhausted himself, and just watched Snafu’s profile in the darkness, comforted in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time in Mobile, or anywhere where Snafu wasn’t, for that matter.

\------

When Eugene woke up the next morning, he spent a minute in drowsy silence before he remembered Snafu showing up at the door last night. He blinked his eyes open and stared at his ceiling for a second, trying to gather the courage to get up. Would Snafu still be here? He didn’t have a great track record for sticking around, after all.

He lay for a little while longer, curled up in his sheets as his mind ticked over. He thought of their exchange out on the porch last night, the slouch of Snafu’s shoulders and the way he’d expertly avoided answering Eugene’s questions. Then he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke, and rolled out of bed with a groan, straightening his pyjamas as he left the room.

He’d gotten the maid to set up the guest room for Snafu last night, and it had taken Eugene a long time to fall asleep after he’d bid him goodnight, knowing he was just down the hall. For three terrible years they’d shared the same foxhole, waking each other up for shift changes, huddling for warmth around a cigarette, sharing the same exhausted, mindless silence. It felt alien for Eugene to sleep apart from Snafu when he was in the same house, but he supposed that war necessitated some things that perhaps weren’t looked upon too fondly in the real world. Two grown men sleeping in the same bed would certainly raise some concern with his parents, and there was no way to explain the bond that formed in a muddy, cramped foxhole. He and Snafu were two pieces of a whole, he thought, and here they were: back together, forcibly apart.

He knocked cursorily on the door of the guest room, and let himself in with a light, “You can’t smoke in here, Snaf.”

Snafu, to his credit, was sprawled near the open window with his hand dangling out of it. He jumped at Eugene’s voice, and stubbed out his cigarette guiltily on the window ledge. Eugene tried not to wince at the burn mark it’d leave. 

“Mornin’ to you, too.” Snafu said, reclining back onto the bed as he eyed Eugene. “Nice PJs.”

Eugene smoothed his hand over his front self-consciously, followed the path of Snafu’s hand as he scratched at his chest before clearing his throat and glancing away. “I see you didn’t wear the ones set out for you.”

Snafu shrugged, gazing at Eugene from under heavy lids as he stretched showily. He was shirtless, very brown from the summer sun and completely shameless. Then again, Eugene had seen Snafu bare chested so often during the war that it was probably only the time spent apart that made him flush. Or maybe because he was half naked in a place that Eugene didn’t associate with shirtless Snafu. That was firmly the Pacific, where the oppressive heat meant that Eugene saw far too much of Snafu than he needed to think about. “Feel all caught up, wearin’ clothes to bed.” He murmured.

“Well.” Eugene muttered, staring fixedly at the wall just past Snafu’s head so he didn’t stare. “You have any problems with breakfast?”

Snafu shrugged lazily. “Not so far.”

It certainly looked like Snafu hadn’t looked sidelong at a meal in a long time, his ribs prominent as he reached for a t-shirt from his seabag. His arms were wiry with muscle, and Eugene wondered again what he was doing for work back in New Orleans. He waited in the hall for Snafu to pull on pants, and then led him wordlessly downstairs.

Eugene’s mother did a double take when she spotted Snafu trailing behind Eugene as they came into the kitchen, and her smile faltered for a second before she hitched it back up. “Eugene,” She said, “Who’s this?”

Eugene opened his mouth, closed it. He’d forgotten his parents had been in bed by the time Snafu had turned up last night, but he’d assumed the servants would tell them about the unexpected visitor before either of them woke up. Now he had the task of trying to compress everything that Snafu was into something that his mother might find satisfactory. “This is Shelton, mother, I told you about him.”

“Oh!” She said, mouth a pink lipsticked ‘O’ of surprise. She smiled warmly past Eugene at Snafu, and Eugene didn’t have to turn around to know Snafu looked uncomfortable. “I’ve heard so much about you from Gene. You helped him back to us?”

“He did that all by himself, ma’am.” Snafu murmured, and Eugene almost snorted at how polite he was being.

“We’re going to eat outside.” Eugene said, brushing past his mother with a hand on her arm. “Could you ask Joyce to bring some food out?”

“Of course.” She said, and the look she gave Snafu as they passed was equal parts curiosity and confusion. Eugene would understand it, Snafu was a shifty looking guy at the best of times. Those huge, hooded eyes, the twitchy hands.

Snafu lit a smoke as soon as they stepped onto the porch, squinting in the early morning sun. It was already beginning to get hot, the Alabama heat unrelenting. Eugene thought Snafu looked sickly in the bright light, a little grey, the bags under his eyes more pronounced.

“Shoulda figured a guy like you had servants.” Snafu murmured, taking a seat in one of the huge wicker chairs and throwing his leg over the arm. Silently, Eugene nudged an ashtray across the table to him. 

“What kind of guy am I?” He asked, watching Snafu as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, soaking in the sun. Eugene thought for one, ridiculous moment, that he looked very much like a stray cat sunning itself and had to press his lips together to stifle a laugh.

“A fancy one.” Snafu said, eyes still closed as he gestured in the air with his cigarette. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth when Eugene scoffed.

Joyce brought out food a little while later, and eyed Snafu like he was some exotic animal as she set the plates down. Snafu didn’t seem to notice, or care, just sat there and smoked and watched Eugene from under his lashes.

“So what’ve you been doin’ with yourself, Sledgehammer?” He asked through a mouthful of eggs. The old nickname made Eugene pause, a bloom of something that he couldn’t call completely _uncomfortable_ forming under his ribcage. Snafu flicked his eyes up, taking a large bite out of a slice of toast as he waited for Eugene’s answer. He ate like a feral thing, Eugene noted, in the same way he’d been during the war. Like someone was about to come and take the food right from his hands. Eugene remembered something Snafu had murmured into the inky night once, years ago, _”I joined the Marines for the food,” a self deprecating smile, “Semper fi.”_

“College.” He said shortly, picking at his own food. Snafu raised his brows, mouth full of food, and Eugene elaborated, “Medicine.”

Snafu swallowed, and then whistled approvingly. “Just like daddy, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Eugene murmured, eyes on his plate. “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?” Snafu asked, reaching for his coffee. 

“What are you doing?” Eugene said patiently. If Snafu wanted to play around, fine, but he wasn’t the one who’d shown up unannounced to his door. He owed him a few answers, at the very least. “For work.”

“Workin’ down at the sawmill.” Snafu answered disinterestedly, “Fuckin’ borin’ hard work, but it pays the rent.”

That explained the smell of sawdust, then. “So you took time off?” Eugene asked, trying his hardest to get any information out of him. It seemed strange to him, that Snafu would show up out of nowhere after five years and not want to talk about anything, really. He seemed happy enough just to be in Eugene’s presence, and Eugene couldn’t work out why.

“Fired.” Snafu bit out, resting his chin on his hand as he gazed out across the lawn. At Eugene’s raised eyebrows, he rolled his eyes. “Got into a minor fight.”

Eugene doubted the fight was ‘minor’, but let it slide. “So then you decided to come here.” It wasn’t a question, he could see in Snafu’s eyes that he was recoiling from the conversation already. Snafu gave him a long look, pursing his lips in that old nervous tic.

“Sure.” He said, “That’s why.”

Eugene let it drop. He figured Snafu would tell him when he wanted to. The guy was a closed book, always had been, but Eugene wasn’t going to let him get away with it like he did during the war. Now, they had time, didn’t have to worry about a shell dropping on them, or an enemy soldier ambushing them. Maybe without the pressure of war, Eugene could uncover what was hiding under Snafu’s veneer of lazy indifference and his mocking smiles.

They went for a walk after breakfast, Snafu strolling along leisurely as Eugene told him about school, about Sid’s first child, some local gossip. Snafu didn’t offer much, vaguely disinterested but seeming perfectly happy to just listen and smoke as they wandered. He seemed brighter than he had last night, better with a little food in him and some sun on his face. At one point, when Eugene was describing how he’d backed his car into his mother’s fountain out the front, he laughed so hard he choked on a lungful of smoke. It left Eugene grinning, feeling warm under his ribs as Snafu wiped at his eyes and called him a clumsy bastard. Eugene had missed that Louisiana drawl, soft and slow like molasses.

They didn’t talk about the war, not even obliquely. Eugene didn’t want to associate Snafu with it anymore, not when he was here with him. It was hard to ignore the pull of his thoughts in that direction though, and on more than one occasion he found himself guiltily comparing the Snafu beside him with the one who he’d grown to know in Okinawa. Realistically, he knew they were the same person, but it was so hard to reconcile the new with the old. On the outside, Snafu was changed, but once Eugene looked harder and longer he could begin to see the cracks. 

“You ever go fishin’?” Snafu asked, hands in his pockets as he dipped a toe into the stream that ran about a half mile from the house. He teetered forward, losing his balance a little, and Eugene caught him by the back of his shirt, pulled him back. He shot a sly grin his way, puffed out a cloud of smoke into his face. “Haven’t been fishin’ in a while.”

“Not since I was a kid.” Eugene said, watching as Snafu put his foot in the stream, and after a second the other one followed. “There’s no good fishing around here, you have to go about ten miles upstream for anything good.”

“Let’s go sometime.” Snafu said, holding his shoes up high as he stepped gingerly over the slippery pebbles at the bottom of the stream. He looked very young, Eugene thought, pants rolled up to his knees, shirt open and loose on his narrow frame. He kept his hair in the same military cut he’d always had, but his curls were growing out a little, messy and sticking straight up. Snafu didn’t seem to notice his preoccupation, rambling about a huge catfish he’d caught once in his lazy, low drawl as he waded out into the middle of the stream. The hems of his pants were getting wet, Eugene noted absently, nodding along as Snafu stretched his arms out to show off how big the fish had been.

Mid-story, Snafu slipped on a mossy rock and ended up on his ass in the water, and sat there for a minute looking so uncharacteristically stunned that Eugene began to laugh so hard there were tears in his eyes. It felt good to laugh with him, too much of their time together had been spent in too serious a situation. Snafu, scowling and wet up to his armpits, attempted to wrestle him into the water too, lunging at Eugene with a cry when he was busy hunched over, breathless with laughter. Eugene braced himself on the bank of the stream, laughing as Snafu tried and failed to tug him into the water. They grappled, Snafu’s cold, wet hand worming its way to the nape of Eugene’s neck as he tried to pull him in. His mouth was twisted in a determined grin, and Eugene felt his heart swell in his chest. Snafu’s skin was wet and sun-warmed, and Eugene had forgotten just how small he was when his hands slipped on his sides, falling to the slender dip of his waist. Snafu was thin as a whip and alive and laughing under his palms, and Eugene was distracted long enough for Snafu to successfully topple him into the water.

“Christ, Snafu!” He cried, the cool water a shock after the heat of the sun. He shook water from his hair, spitting out a mouthful as Snafu laughed. It rang through the woods, unfamiliar and mesmerising, and Eugene forgot to be mad about his wet clothes at the sound of it. Snafu, wet bronze and boyish curls, his eyes crinkled with mirth as he kneeled by Eugene’s side and leaned forward to gloat.

“Got you good, Sledgehammer.” He said, slow and lazy, and Eugene grabbed him by the soaked front of his shirt without his brain registering the movement. Snafu looked from Eugene’s hand clenched in his shirt, then to his face, his grin dropping slowly, eyes knife sharp and big in his face. His gaze darted to Eugene’s mouth, too lingering to be anything but deliberate, and Eugene took that as permission as he pulled him down to close the foot of distance between them.

The touch of his lips to Snafu’s felt like the shock of the water, jolting his senses as he propped himself up on one elbow to get closer to him. Snafu’s chest was blazing hot against the knuckles of the hand twisted in the front of his shirt, and when Snafu made a noise against his mouth and pressed closer, Eugene’s hand tightened in the wet fabric.

“Gene.” Snafu murmured, voice like something molten against his mouth, and Eugene groaned and pulled him even closer. Snafu’s hand flew to cup the back of his head, cradling it so he could kiss him deep. The water was making Eugene’s clothes cling to him, making him feel bound up and lightheaded under Snafu’s mouth. His hand moved to Snafu’s narrow waist, pulling him up against his chest as his head swam from it all. Snafu’s hand, so gentle in his hair, his body slender and strong against him. Eugene couldn’t word how long he’d waited to do this, couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d realised. Maybe it was in some godforsaken corner of Okinawa, their shared foxhole, or even just the night before, Snafu whole and real and shadowed next to him as the night cooled around them and the cicadas sang. Or maybe it was with a tilted chin, lazy eyes, _I like to watch the new guys sweat._ It was hard to pinpoint, and near impossible with Snafu’s mouth so desperate on his, the thumb on his free hand grazing Eugene’s Adam’s apple _just so_. His pulse was pounding in his throat, and he was sure Snafu would be able to feel it, be able to tell just how worked up he was.

Eugene laughed, breathless against Snafu’s mouth, and their teeth clicked together when Snafu grinned too. His hand slid to Eugene’s nape, squeezing affectionately, comfortingly. When their lips touched again it was softer, less urgent, and Snafu sighed as Eugene opened his mouth under his. He tasted like cigarettes, like the mint leaves he’d been chewing, and Eugene screwed his eyes shut at the pulse of happiness in his chest. It was dizzying, heady, and he held Snafu as close as he could, hands gripping too tight in the soft skin of his waist. 

“Gene,” Snafu murmured, leaning back a little, “Gene, I’m soaked through.” His lips were red, and Eugene followed them dreamily until Snafu pressed a hand against his chest with a laugh. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, God, me too.” He said, mouth feeling heavy and clumsy. His hand was still tight on Snafu’s bare waist, and when he ran his thumb over his skin he could feel his skin was pebbled from the cold. “We should head back.”

“Yeah.” Snafu said quietly, not moving. His forearm was still propped comfortably on Eugene’s shoulder, and he could feel him drumming his fingers nervously on his back. “That was something, huh?” His mouth tipped into an unsure smile.

“I’ve been wanting-” Eugene shrugged self-consciously, unsure how to word it. It was hard to say out loud, that he wanted him like other men wanted women. He felt for Snafu like he used to for Sid, back when they were teenagers and he’d looked up to him so much. Snafu had dragged him through that war and out the other side. He’d left him on that train, but he’d come back for him. He’d comforted him as best he could when Deacon had died, sat so close with his red nose and his red lips and tried harder than Eugene had ever seen him try with any other person. Maybe it was that moment, he thought, that had started it all. But how could he tell him that? There was a ball of affection blooming in his throat, large enough to almost choke him, and he was speechless with it. “I’m glad you’re back.” He settled on, hoping Snafu would somehow understand.

Snafu’s smile broadened, and he brought his hand to cup Eugene’s cheek, leaned in to kiss him again. It was brief and sweet, and when he drew away his face was relaxed and open. It was strange to see, and Eugene soaked it in, filed it away for safekeeping. “Yeah.” Snafu said again, voice a little rough, “Me too.”

They walked back to the house slow, the afternoon heat drying their clothes as they strolled. At one point, just when the house was coming into view, Snafu closed the space between them. His hand brushed against Eugene’s, and he ducked his head with a grin around his cigarette before glancing off through the trees. Eugene grinned to himself, and touched his thumb to the back of Snafu’s hand, a wordless gesture. _I’m here. It’s you. It may have always been you._

\-------

Eugene’s father grilled Snafu over dinner, and it was good-natured but Eugene could tell he was testing the boundaries of Snafu’s very limited politeness. It was a strange scene, Snafu seated at his dining table, answering his father’s questions about the war with a polite smile that had long turned rictus. Eugene couldn’t say he’d never imagined this, but it was normally such an outlandish fantasy that he shook it off before he began. The thought of Snafu, sitting all clean and proper at dinner with his parents? Ridiculous, but here he was. What made it all the more surreal was what they had gotten up to earlier, in the woods. Neither of them had mentioned it, but Snafu’s eyes were so uncharacteristically soft on him whenever Eugene looked up that he knew he must be thinking about it.

Eugene’s mother watched Snafu like she still couldn’t quite work out what to make of him, and Eugene understood that. He couldn’t quite work it out either. Attempting to reconcile the Snafu in front of him with the one from his memories was impossible, because he talked the same, he walked the same, and when he thought no one was looking he stared off into the distance with those glazed, pale eyes just the same as he always did. It was like seeing a badly domesticated dog, half-feral and ready with hackles half raised at all times. Snafu had this habit of sitting with his elbows tucked into his belly when he was nervous, Eugene had spotted it during the war and was seeing it again now, like he was one step away from folding into himself. Eugene’s mother had always been a perceptive woman, and he could watch as she slowly began to piece him together. Hands clumsy with the silverware, the constant apologies for cursing, the smell of smoke that clung to him like a second skin, the way he seemed ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. He screamed, _not quite right_ , dangerous goods, off-kilter and alien behind a forced, pleasant smile.

His shirt collar was wonky, and Eugene longed to smooth it down for him.

“So what’s ah, ‘Snafu’ mean, son?” Eugene’s father asked, reaching for his glass of brandy as he eyed Snafu over the wire rim of his glasses. Snafu grinned uncertainly, and glanced from Eugene to his mother and back to his father.

“Uh, _mo chagren_ , ‘situation normal: all fucked up,’ sir.” He muttered, staring down at his empty plate. There was a moment of silence, and then Eugene’s father laughed.

“And they called you that?”

“Gene still does, sir.” Snafu replied, eyes flicking to Eugene and then away. “I answer to it better than Merriell, these days.”

“What did the men call Eugene?” His father asked, leaning back in his chair. Eugene grimaced, embarrassed when Snafu barked out a laugh.

“ _Sledgehammer_.” He said, and the way his accent curled around the end of the word made Eugene’s face burn. Snafu had certainly never said it like _that_. “On account of him saving my life.”

Somehow, Eugene had forgotten how he’d earned that name. Somewhere in the rain of bullets and the sucking mud, he’d forgotten those early, scorching days, where Snafu had seemed mean and strange and mad. Okinawa had swallowed him whole and made him forget the lighter moments of the long years spent at war.

Later, when they were smoking on the porch alone, Snafu leaned his body weight into Eugene’s side with a sigh. He looked otherworldly and barely there in the dark, a smudge of a pouting mouth, green eyes, the trail of a cigarette. To look at him in that moment, quiet and boneless against Eugene, it was difficult to believe that the things Eugene had seem him do were real. The war had hardened him into a weapon, but Eugene supposed it had done the same for him too. He thought often of the boy with the heart murmur who’d wanted so badly to serve his country, to follow in his father and his brother’s footsteps and to do what he thought was _right_. He didn’t have time to mourn him when he got back, too wrapped up in his nightmares and his panic and the numbness that made him miss the nauseating fear he’d lived in day after day out in the Pacific. Now, maybe, with time and with a slowly stabilising mind, he could give the boy he used to be some time. 

Snafu had embraced the war madness like it could help him survive it, and maybe it did. Maybe he detached so far from who he’d been before the war he’d managed to protect himself. Maybe that’s where Eugene had gone wrong: he’d tried to hold onto his humanity for so long that when it snapped from the pressure he went along with it. Gently, he rested his cheek on the top of Snafu’s curly head, made wilder from their unplanned dip in the water earlier.

“Do you hate me calling you Snafu?” He asked. Snafu made a poor attempt at a smoke ring before shrugging.

“I don’t care.” He murmured, that low drawl. “Shelton, Snafu, s’all the same. I’d’ve told ya if you were pushin’ fire.”

“Merriell?” Eugene tried, the name desperately unfamiliar in his mouth. He hadn’t known Snafu’s first name for the first six months of knowing him, had only found it out when he’d glanced at a letter he’d received. No one called him it, so he wasn’t surprised at Snafu’s snort of derision.

“That’s pushin’.” He said, and that was that. He was quiet for a long time, then, and Eugene could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. Eventually, he said. “You’re the only person who calls me Snafu.”

“You don’t see any of the others?” Eugene asked, and Snafu shook his head under Eugene’s cheek.

“Only you.”

“Why me?” Eugene asked, and that was the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since Snafu had turned up, only a day ago. Because they shared a foxhole? Because Eugene was the closest thing to a friend Snafu had during the war? Because, somehow, he knew that Eugene would kiss him in the woods, soaked to the skin and laughing?

Snafu’s answer surprised him, when he finally replied. “‘Cus I was guilty.” His voice was low and barely there, and he took a harsh drag off the butt of his cigarette after, like he regretted admitting that.

“What for?” Eugene asked, even though he’d worked it out before the words left his mouth. Snafu shifted uncomfortably, drawing away from him a little. Eugene sat up straight, and took his pipe from his mouth to worry it between his fingers. Snafu’s free hand was clutched in his curls, fingers drawing slowly through them, thinking.

“Leavin’ you there,” He murmured slowly, measured. “I was scared, b’cus I didn’t- I don’t know.” He glanced sidelong at Eugene, his eyes hooded. “I thought I was doin’ you a favour, not messin’ you up in my life.”

“So you thought leaving without a goodbye would be better for me?” Eugene asked, and Snafu’s eyes dropped to his lap.

“Didn’t say I was thinkin’ straight.” He murmured, then, “I thought about wakin’ you up, but you looked so peaceful.” He looked away, out into the inky darkness of the woods. “Ain’t ever seen you sleep like that.”

Eugene watched him stub his cigarette out in the ashtray by his thigh, took in his shadowy profile by the light coming through the front windows. He looked tense and sad, and Eugene felt suddenly sorry for him. “I was sleeping that good ‘cos I knew you were there.” He murmured, and Snafu’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “Because we weren’t in some muddy hole, because I thought I had a couple more hours with you.”

Snafu didn’t reply, just silently lit another cigarette and leaned back with a sigh of smoke. It coiled draconic from his nostrils, and Eugene lit his pipe in the lull of conversation, puffing on it as he waited. Snafu had always been a strange creature in conversation. Too quick with smart comebacks, mean ones too, but slow and steady with anything meaningful. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.” He said, shortly. “That woulda make it too real, _merde_.”

Eugene hadn’t caught Snafu’s odd Cajun French earlier, at the dinner table, but knew a curse when he heard it. “It didn’t have to be a goodbye.” He said, “It _wasn’t_. You’re here now.”

Snafu just grunted and ground out his half smoked cigarette into the ashtray, knocking it with his bare foot when he stood. “I’m going to bed.” He said sharply, but he lingered, like he was waiting for something. Eugene didn’t look at him, thinking of the feeling of his hand tangled in his hair earlier, the sound of his laugh against his mouth.

“I never held it against you.” He murmured, and Snafu went very still. Eugene looked out across the lawn, eyes lingering on the dark, looming shapes of his and his father’s cars. “Never once. I always knew you had a reason.”

Snafu didn’t say anything, but Eugene didn’t turn in case he spooked him out of this strange confessional mood he was in. Then Snafu murmured, “ _Mo laime toi, c'était ma raison_.” 

“I don’t-” Eugene turned, _I don’t understand_ , but Snafu was slipping through the door, a shadowy figure against the kitchen lights. Eugene waited a beat for him to reappear, and when he didn’t he cursed to himself, irritated. Snafu shut down conversation like he was the only one invested in it, and Eugene didn’t have time for it. 

He went to his own bed a little while later, when his pipe had burnt out and he’d finished mulling through his and Snafu’s conversation. Head swimming, he undressed robotically, slinging his water-stiff clothes over his desk chair before collapsing into bed. It took him a long time to fall asleep, the silent presence of Snafu down the hall too distracting. He fell asleep thinking about huddling into Snafu’s side for warmth, mud up to his ankles and the ever-present panic tugging in his chest abating slightly with the knowledge that Snafu was right there. Snafu had never let an enemy soldier into their foxhole, and Eugene trusted him with his life.

He dreamt of the war, a terrifying kaleidoscope of fire and dirt and blood. His dream self gripped his rifle, white knuckled, but every face he saw was shadowy and indistinct. He was panicking, trying to find Snafu amongst the faceless men, feet sinking into the mud until he couldn’t move. Up to his knees, creeping over his thighs, his hips, and he dropped his rifle as he scrabbled at the churned up ground, trying to pull himself out. A Japanese soldier was coming for him, and he was up to his chest in the mud, creeping cold and gritty into his uniform, _too real_. Boots thudded by him, but his arms were trapped by his side as the mud spilled into his mouth, suffocating and thick, and the last thing he’d ever see was the enemy hefting his gun, the barrel aimed square at his forehead. Eugene had never felt so helpless, and when he opened his mouth to shout mud flowed in, tasting like death and grime and-

He woke gasping, and clawed at the hands on his shoulders as he dragged himself out of his dream. They let go quickly, and Eugene curled back against the headboard, bringing his knees to his chest to block out the dark room. He was breathing harshly, his pajamas sticking to his back with sweat; he put his hand over his face as he tried to calm himself down. The sheer panic of his dream was lingering, and he sucked in breath after breath until it felt less like there was a belt around his lungs, keeping him from breathing. 

He became aware in increments that he wasn’t alone, which only made his panic worse until his eyes adjusted to the dark room and saw Snafu’s huge eyes trained on him, wide and dark. He shuddered through another measured breath, lowering his hands from his face as shame began to creep in and replace the fear. He felt nauseous with it, the clammy sweat on his skin making it worse.

Neither of them said anything for a long, drawn out minute. Eugene still felt on high alert, adrenaline coursing through him and making him shaky. He hadn’t had a nightmare this bad in almost a week now, but somehow he always forgot how awful they were. Snafu was sitting on the edge of the bed, arms out to his sides and head cocked, like he was waiting for something. Eugene cleared his throat and pushed sweaty hair off his forehead, casting about for something to say. He was embarrassed that Snafu had to see him like that, and words couldn’t get past the lump of shame in his throat.

“I heard ya shouting.” Snafu said finally, thankfully. His voice was sleep-rough and slow, measured. He’d only heard Snafu be this careful once, and it was after Deacon had died. When he didn’t reply, Snafu looked away, drew a knee to his chest. “I got nightmares too, after. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“You don’t get them anymore though, do you? You’re over it.” Eugene snapped, feeling instantly bad about it when Snafu gave him a hurt look. He grimaced, looking down at his knees as something melancholy settled in his chest. “I can’t do this, anymore.” He put his face in his hands. “I just can’t do this.”

“You don’t just _get over it_.” Snafu hissed, leaning forward until Eugene looked up at him. His eyes were knife sharp through the darkness, sobering, and Eugene gritted his teeth as he stared him down. “You think I’m over it?”

“No.” Eugene said grudgingly. “I didn’t mean it, Snaf.”

Snafu was still tense, big eyes darting in his sockets, unblinking. “It ain’t weakness. We’re here, ain’t we?”

Eugene still felt sick from his nightmare, shaky and weak. Snafu’s intensity was exhausting, and he regretted even speaking. “Are we?” He murmured tiredly. “Is this what being alive is like?”

Snafu bared his teeth and shuffled closer, until he was right up in Eugene’s face. “Every day I’m breathin’, I’m alive.” He said in a low voice, eyes boring into Eugene. “You don’t think fucking Hamm, Ack Ack, every other dead man back there, would want that?”

Eugene didn’t have anything to say to that, just closed the distance between them to press his forehead to Snafu’s. Snafu sighed, and then brought his hand up to cup Eugene’s cheek. His big, square hands, rifle calloused but gentle. Eugene thought about everything those hands had done, everything _his_ hands had done, and swallowed.

“Okinawa ain’t ever gonna leave us.” Snafu whispered, thumb stroking over Eugene’s cheekbone. “Doesn’t mean we gotta surrender to it.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” Eugene murmured, leaning into Snafu’s touch. Snafu snorted, tipping his face closer to Eugene’s.

“You know I don’t sleep much, Sledgehammer.” He tilted Eugene’s face to the side, kissed him gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake up sooner.”

“I get nightmares a lot.” Eugene murmured, eyes half closed as Snafu kissed his jaw. “You don’t have to come running every time.”

Snafu didn’t answer, but the way he cradled Eugene’s face to kiss him was answer enough. He’d be there, just like he always had been. Waking up alone on that train was so jarring because Snafu was _always_ there, the only constant in those war mad years. 

“ _Mon cher_ ,” Snafu murmured, kissing Eugene’s lips, his jaw, his eyelids. “Gene.”

“You know I don’t know what you’re saying.” Eugene grumbled, bringing a hand to the nape of Snafu’s neck to pull him closer as he lay back against his pillows. 

“Good.” Snafu muttered, and leaned down to kiss him deeply. He planted one elbow to the side of Eugene’s head, his free hand trailing down his throat, over his chest, to grip hold of his waist as he curved Eugene’s body into his. It was a little overwhelming, and Eugene felt drunk on it. He’d never had this with anyone, this intimacy, and he knotted his fingers in Snafu’s curls to kiss him hard. The adrenaline ebbing out of him was making him lethargic, worn out, and Snafu could sense it as he eased up on his kisses. “You tired?”

“Yeah.” Eugene murmured, not letting go. “I don’t want you to go, though.” He ran his thumbs over the short, buzzed part of Snafu’s hair. 

“Your parents won’t notice, right?” Snafu said into the skin of Eugene’s throat, nosing along his jaw affectionately. 

“They ignore anything they don’t like.” Eugene said with a sigh, and when he blinked open his eyes Snafu was watching him closely.

“You want me to sleep in here?” He asked, and Eugene nodded. Snafu tipped his head to the side, thinking. “Sure.”

Eugene let Snafu nudge him aside so he could get under the sheets, something bright and hopeful unfurling under his breastbone. He couldn’t remember exactly the last time he and Snafu had slept in the same space, but knew it was far too long. Of course, this was so different. Snafu was clean and half naked, his kisses still lingering on Eugene’s mouth, the feel of his fingers on the dip of his waist like a burn. Snafu curled on his side, looked over his shoulder until Eugene caught his idea and fitted himself neatly behind him. Snafu’s bare back was pressed to his front, and when he wound his arms around him Snafu was devastatingly small, almost fragile in his narrow hips, his sinewy muscle. Eugene always forgot just how much smaller Snafu was than him, he’d always exuded the demeanour of a much bigger man.

Holding him close like that reminded Eugene of how they used to huddle for warmth in their foxholes. It was an odd kind of cognitive dissonance, the familiar smells of home alongside the unfamiliar smells of a clean Snafu. But Eugene pressed his face to the back of his neck and Snafu was still the same there, cigarette smoke and the smell of his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmured into Snafu’s nape, and Snafu snorted before rolling onto his side. Their noses brushed, Eugene’s eyes slipping closed with tiredness and anticipation. 

“You want a goodnight kiss, boo?” His voice was teasing, lazy. Eugene wondered idly what time it was.

“Sure.” He breathed, kissing Snafu gently, moving to his jaw, his throat. He was missing the smell of rifle oil, mud and sweat and for a moment Eugene was shaken, because he didn’t associate this smell: soap and clean hair, with the Snafu of his memories. But then Snafu sighed, tilted his head back, and when Eugene pressed his nose to the hollow of his throat he smelled the same. Like salt and skin, Snafu after bathing in the sea, in a stream, bronzed and damp and close enough to touch. Eugene could touch him now, could slide his palms up the bumps of Snafu’s ribs to splay over his sides, below his armpits. He could press his mouth to his collarbones, his throat, the sharp jut of his jaw, so he did. Snafu breathed out a pleased sound at the touch, and that too was so unlike the Snafu that Eugene had been dreaming about that he stopped for a second, disorientated. Snafu’s hand curled in the short hair at the nape of Eugene’s neck, gentle, sweet, and Eugene smiled into his skin. 

He supposed those post-war years had made them soft, the time spent away and then the sudden reunion, and now they were tender, hungry for sweetness. Snafu during the war had been mean and tough, vicious with those big eerie eyes, but when those eyes blinked open to gaze down at him, Eugene could only see affection. Preternaturally green, wide in his face, the intensity made Eugene shiver in the dark room. War had made Snafu mean, it had made Eugene mean, and he swore to himself in that moment that he never wanted to see that cold, deadened stare on Snafu’s face again. Anger, he’d take. Pain, too. But that chilling lack of emotion, lack of interest in himself or anyone else, Eugene never wanted to see it again.

“I want to leave Okinawa behind.” He murmured into Snafu’s skin, and Snafu rubbed his hand between Eugene’s shoulder blades, comfortingly firm. 

“We can. _Bout pou bout, n’a rive_.” He breathed, sounding half asleep. “Just ‘cos you dream about it doesn’t mean you gotta let it swallow you up.”


	2. Chapter 2

Snafu didn’t make a habit of sleeping in Eugene’s bed. Maybe it was because both of them were afraid of what would happen if any of the servants, or Eugene’s parents, found out, or maybe they were just too afraid of what was budding between them to push it. Sleeping together seemed like the next step into a world that Eugene certainly didn’t know much about, and maybe Snafu knew a disconcerting amount about. Snafu kissed him when there was no one around, and Eugene always let him. He always tasted like cigarettes, and his big hands shook before they closed around Eugene’s wrist, his waist. 

They used to do this thing, back in Okinawa, where they’d count down the moments between shelling rounds. Like how kids get taught to count the seconds between a thunderclap and a flash of lightning, to gauge the distance. In Okinawa, it had kept Eugene going. If five seconds of his life could go by without some Japanese shells landing on their heads, so could another five, and then another. He wondered how many seconds it had been now, years worth of seconds, and wondered when the clock would reset again. Watching Snafu was like counting the beats between something unknown. There was something anticipatory in the air between them, and Eugene often found himself counting off like he’d done back in the war, _sixteen, seventeen, eighteen._ He wondered just what he was counting towards, whether it was as bad as a shell, or something so much worse.

They went into town a couple times, for errands, for cigarettes. Eugene let Snafu drive once, but after a harrowing ten minutes in which Snafu seemed intent on taking every corner at top speed, he was banned from the car. He sulked about it a bit, but was somewhat mollified when Eugene slipped him a kiss under the guise of straightening the strap of his suspenders.

“Risky move.” Snafu murmured, eyes heavy lidded and following Eugene as he moved away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eugene said, quick and dry, and Snafu tipped his head back and laughed, his displeasure over his loss of car privileges forgotten.

Crowds made Snafu edgy and quiet, on high alert. It was made worse by the fact that people stopped Eugene to speak to him constantly, asking after his father, the house, his brother. Snafu stood by his side, silent, smoking, unfriendly. Like his own personal bodyguard. It was annoying, unnecessary, but goddamn if Eugene didn’t feel a little pleased by it.

“You’ve gotta lay off the stink eye around the locals.” Eugene said under his breath, and Snafu just grunted.

Eugene reset his internal countdown.

Snafu was a collage of almosts. A haunting reminder of what could’ve been, if Eugene’s head wasn’t screwed on so straight, if he had given up humanity completely that chilly morning in Okinawa. If Snafu hadn’t gone to such lengths to keep him from losing it. Snafu lost hours gazing into nothing, the ice in his sweet tea melting under the Alabama sun, condensation dripping into the webs of his fingers. Eugene didn’t know how to draw him back, knew that what he was lost in weren’t the scenes of war that plagued Eugene’s nights but something different that he couldn’t understand. Snafu had always been not quite right, off kilter with the rest of the word in some small but significant way. It was made all the more apparent now, when they had all this time on their hands to get stuck in their own heads. God knows it drove Eugene mad when he returned from the war, the switch from constant action to days dragging into one another in one oozing crawl. 

Eugene kissed him, and Snafu melted into touch like the ice in his tea, inevitably, irrevocable. 

“I never thanked you for not letting me take the teeth out of that dead soldier.” Eugene said one afternoon, the two of them lying on the lawn quietly. Eugene was reading a book, his head pillowed on Snafu’s thigh as he smoked steadily through a carton of cigarettes. Today wasn’t a bad day, so Snafu’s gaze was sharp, interested on him when he glanced down. There was a light sheen of sweat at the hollow of his throat, and Eugene surprised himself with the intensity of how much he wanted to taste it.

“Never had to, sugar.” He drawled, the corner of his mouth curling as he leaned back on one elbow. Stretched out in the sun, eyes squinted, leonine and bronzed and lazy. Eugene wanted him like he’d never wanted anyone before. “Glad to see you ain’t still hatin’ me for it, though.”

“I didn’t hate you for it.” Eugene admitted, “Actually, I was kind of relieved that I didn’t have to go through with it. As soon as I went to do it, I lost my nerve.”

“Yeah,” Snafu murmured, drawing out the word. “Takes it outta you.”

Eugene laid his book on his chest and tilted his head so he could see Snafu better. He didn’t seem affected by it, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he’d appropriated off of Eugene. “You ever regret it?” Eugene asked, quiet. 

“I regret few things, _cher_.” Snafu replied, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “That is not one of them.”

Eugene thought of the guilt he carried in him like a physical entity, eating away at him until he felt flimsy and glass-fragile with it. “Why’d you do it?” He asked. One of his earliest memories of Snafu had been the true horror he’d felt at seeing him take his kabar and wrench open that corpse’s mouth. It had been his first glance into what war was really going to be like, his father’s stories surreptitiously missing teeth stealing maniacs. Snafu didn’t reply, so Eugene tried again. “What gave you the idea?”

“There ain’t anything behind it.” Snafu murmured dismissively. “War makes you do all kinds’a crazy shit.”

Eugene thought about how easily he’d shot that soldier, and hummed. “S’pose you’re right.”

He went back to his book, Snafu back to his cigarette, but the words kept blurring into one as his mind lingered on the ease in which he’d killed that soldier. At the beginning, he’d felt sick to his stomach at just the knowledge that one of his mortars had killed people. By the end, killing had been second nature. He wondered if he could still take a person’s life like that, or whether time and distance had detached him from it. He’d spent a lot of time hating that part of himself when he’d come home, hating that that was a thing he was able to do. It wasn’t natural. 

“Penny for them.” Snafu said, and when Eugene glanced up he was looking down at him through the sunglasses, expression veiled. At Eugene’s questioning look, the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Can hear ya thinkin’ from all the way up here.”

Eugene shuffled uncomfortably, the grass under him tickling his neck as he tried to word his question in a way that wouldn’t make Snafu either laugh at him or shut down. I didn’t come easy, so eventually he just muttered, “Did you ever...enjoy it?” At Snafu’s raised brows he elaborated with a grimace. “Killing people.”

“They weren’t people.” Snafu said immediately, and at Eugene’s expression he shrugged. “Jus’ like we weren’t people. All they was were walkin’ talkin’ guns, just like the rest of us. If it was a matter of them or me, I was gonna save my ass before I got all upset ‘bout it.”

“But did you like it?” Eugene pressed, and Snafu snorted. 

“Did I look like I was havin’ fun?” He drawled, tipping his head to the side as he regarded Eugene through his sunglasses. Eugene was suddenly sorry for them, as it was hard to read Snafu with his big, expressive eyes covered up.

“You never looked too cut up about it.” Eugene replied, and Snafu laughed and nodded.

“Yeah.” He said, considering. “S’pose not.” He was silent for a minute, brow wrinkled above his glasses. Eugene was about to reply, when Snafu said, “You do what you gotta do if you wanna stay sane. Sometimes it’s hard to know what what ya real thoughts are and what you’re makin’ yourself feel just to get through it.”

“So you don’t know.” Eugene said, watching Snafu closely.

“I don’t.” He said, and laid back on the grass with a sigh. “How ‘bout you?”

Eugene thought about it, like it hadn’t been plaguing him since he first took a life. “No.” He said slowly. “I don’t reckon I ever enjoyed it, but I think there’s a fine line between bein’ desensitised to killin’ and taking pleasure from killin’.”

“Well said.” Snafu replied, “ _Merde_ , I ain’t ever thought about it, really.”

“I think about it all the time.” Eugene said distantly, and Snafu brought his hand to Eugene head, scratched comfortingly through his hair.

“That’s the way to goin’ completely crazy, boo.” He said, “Some things’re best left behind.”

Eugene thought of what Ack Ack had said, a lifetime ago after Eugene’s first brush with the realities of war. Something about not lingering on it, the memory was hazy and Eugene was sorry for it. “Easier said than done.” Eugene replied, tilting his head into Snafu’s touch. Snafu hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t reply. Eugene picked his book back up, tried to focus back in as his head swam with Snafu’s words. Maybe that really was how to recover from the war: letting go of the guilt, the fear, the memories. “Do you think you could still do it?” He murmured, and Snafu didn’t play dumb this time.

“Yeah.” He said firmly, “I’d take any bastard’s head off to protect the people I love.” The unspoken _you_ hung between them, Eugene could practically feel it forcing him down into the ground with its pressure. Snafu had killed for him before. He’d kill for him again.

Eugene wasn’t sure how he felt about that, the knowledge lodging itself into his chest like shrapnel, sharp when he twisted to kiss Snafu’s palm.

\------

Snafu woke him with a whispered ‘Sledgehammer’ one morning, days after their afternoon talk of death and war and guilt. It took Eugene a minute to realise that he wasn’t lying in cold mud with the wreckage of war all around him, waking up to his old nickname gave him an almost Pavlovian reaction to reach for a rifle that wasn’t there. He was clean, he was warm, and Snafu was looking down at him with a fondness in his eyes that he knew would have been impossible during those years.

The light was watery grey and thin, and Snafu looked too awake for how early it must’ve been. He was only wearing an t-shirt, off-white cotton, soft when Eugene knotted his fingers in it and curled into a ball on his side. “Someone’s up early.” He mumbled, yawning into his pillow.

“We’re going fishing.” Snafu said, that lazy monotone, and when Eugene blinked one eye open to stare at him he grinned so wide that Eugene could see his pointy eye teeth. 

“We are?” He sighed, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. 

“We are.” Snafu murmured, kissing him gently. “So get the fuck up, _mon cher_.”

“You’re a class act, Snaf.” Eugene muttered, rolling over onto his back as Snafu left the room with a laugh. 

By the time Eugene had gotten dressed and washed up, the smell of cooking food was beginning to rise through the house. He wandered into the kitchen in his bare feet, head still groggy from a late night. Snafu had slept in his bed, as his parents were away on a weekend trip, and Eugene hadn’t been able to sleep with so much of Snafu to stare at. He’d felt himself creeping closer to what he’d always been afraid of, that frightening little part of himself he’d been trying to ignore since the boys around him started getting sweet on girls. The tile was warm under his bare toes, no such thing as the chill of dawn in late June in Alabama. He wanted to kiss Snafu until he drowned in it, he thought, as he watched him talking to the cook in French. He wanted to kiss him everywhere, the flat of his stomach, his bony wrists, his dark nipples. He flushed at the thought, standing there stupidly in the kitchen doorway while Snafu chattered away, unaware.

He was sitting up on the counter, and it was a real testament to how much Joyce must’ve liked him that she hadn’t swatted him off. The way he sat, head tilted, resting back on the heels of his hands, was so instantly, jarringly familiar. He could always be found like that, during the war. Dirty, smoking and smirking, sitting on anything like he owned the place.

“Nice that you finally joined us.” He said, voice mocking and syrup slow. His heavy lidded eyes followed Eugene as he crossed the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee from the percolator.

“Some of us like to wash, Corporal.” He shot back calmly, and returned Snafu’s grin from behind the lip of his cup. Snafu leaned in close, pale eyes amused and almost predatory.

“You like the way I smell, _bé_.” It was barely above a whisper, and Joyce was noisily searing onions in the pan, but Eugene still shoved him back with a warning glare. Snafu just grinned slowly, eyes falling to Eugene’s palm pressed to his sternum. “Easy, sugar.” 

Eugene felt his ears burning, a low wash of heat rolling over him at Snafu’s heavy, hooded gaze. He opened his mouth for a comeback, and Snafu’s smile stretched. He closed his mouth, turned away. “What’re you cooking up?” He asked, coming to peer into the saucepan that Joyce was standing over. He could feel Snafu’s eyes on the nape of his neck like a burn, and he rubbed at it like that would stop him from blushing.

“The boy wanted onions.” She said, “Told him I wasn’t serving you up plain old onions so,” She gestured to the pan. “I fried up some eggs and bacon.”

Eugene glanced back at Snafu, eyebrows raised. He tipped his chin up, grinning. “Onions, Snafu?”

“Superstition.” He drawled. “Onions before fishing means good luck.”

Eugene gave him a long look. “Never pegged you for a superstitious man.” Snafu pursed his lips, still smiling.

“Hard not to be, in my situation.”

Eugene didn’t know what that meant, just gave him a helpless look that Snafu shrugged at in reply. They ate their breakfast at the small table in the kitchen, Snafu picking up his bacon with his hands and grinning toothily when Eugene shook his head at him from across the table. 

They set off in the pink dawn, piling into Eugene’s father’s truck with some dusty old rods that Eugene had managed to unearth from the shed. The sticky heat of the day had hours yet to fall, and the air was fresh and thin, tousling Snafu’s curls as he rolled the window down. He was in a good mood, and Eugene couldn’t help but be infected by it. He grinned as Snafu sung along tunelessly to the radio, thumping his hand in time with the song on the outside of the truck. His feet were propped on the dash, bare and dirty, and after the fifth time Eugene swatted at them and he put them back up, he gave up. He didn’t have time to deal with his half-wild self. Domesticating Snafu was a long missed opportunity, and Eugene couldn’t say he was too sad about it. Snafu kissed him quickly, happily, and Eugene pushed him away with a grumble.

“You stink like onions, Snaf.” He muttered, and Snafu just lit a cigarette and bared his teeth at him, playful. “And you’re dropping ash everywhere.”

“Loosen up.” Snafu told him, sticking his cigarette in Eugene’s mouth and laughing as he squinted his eyes against the smoke. Eugene felt his heart swell at the sight of him, that big obnoxious laugh crinkling his eyes and brightening his tired face. The nicotine was making him dizzy, but something else was filling him up inside and making him lightheaded, his face hot. His breath was short with the pressure of whatever it was in his chest, but he grinned as he gladly suffocated in it. The wind caught his hair, and Snafu pushed it out of his eyes with a touch so gentle that Eugene almost lost track of the road.

“I’m tryna drive here.” He grumbled, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his grin in check. Snafu just clicked his tongue and plucked his cigarette from between Eugene’s fingers.

“Stop starin’ at me and focus on the road, then.” He said, and Eugene blushed, caught out.

“Just making sure you ain’t gonna burn the upholstery.” He shot back, and Snafu laughed again, that big, loud laugh of his. God only knows how they survived the war with that laugh in their unit, too loud for the hush of the jungle.

“Care about yourself, _ma raison d'être_.” The last phrase was mocking, Snafu’s accent curling around it so Eugene couldn’t miss the sarcasm no matter if he knew what it meant. Without looking, he flung his hand out to smack Snafu, and wasn’t surprised in the least when he caught it. “I could break your wrist.” Snafu said teasingly, and Eugene grinned, eyes on the road. After a moment, Snafu released his hand, not before pressing a quick kiss to his palm.

The fishing spot was one Eugene had spent too many of his summer days at, with his brother, his father. With Sid. They never really caught much of anything, but that wasn’t what fishing was about. The sound of the water made him think of childhood sunburns, packed lunches, the smell of his father’s pipe. A fish, wiggling slick and vibrantly alive in his young hands. He’d kissed Sid here, before either of them knew it was wrong. Eugene looked over his shoulder to Snafu, already sweating in the early morning sun, a cigarette burning between his lips, and realised he knew very well how wrong it was by now. He didn’t care. It had never been much of a shock to him, that he liked boys. There was absolutely nothing surprising about Snafu being inclined that way, either. He had always been strange and slightly out of step with the rest of the world. That was just another one of his many eccentricities. 

“Hey, Snafu.” He said, and Snafu cocked an eyebrow at him. He was fiddling with the tackle box, feet in the stream and pants rolled up to his knees. “How’d you know?” 

“Know what.” Snafu mumbled around his cigarette, eyes on the task in front of him. Eugene sat down next to him and started pulling his shoes off. The first touch of the water to his hot feet was breathtaking, and he sighed in relief as he leaned back on his hands.

“That you didn’t like women.” He told the sky, head tipped back and eyes closed. The trees were silent around them, and the burble of the stream filled the split second of silence before Snafu laughed. 

“Always.” He said shortly, and when Eugene rolled his head to the side he was smirking behind his cigarette. Eugene followed his line of sight to his lap, where he was tying the hook to his line. Snafu’s hands were quick and surprisingly agile at the task, and Eugene wondered if he did a lot of fishing.

“Really?” Eugene asked, and Snafu nodded firmly.

“Really.” He said solemnly, then grinned and cast his line out into the water. “Why? You jus’ realisin’?”

“Obviously not.” Eugene said, and Snafu glanced at him with a teasing smile. “I was just wondering.”

“You scared I’d say, never, Gene,” He adopted a silly voice, sharpening up his vowels. “I’m not a goddamn queer, I was just _so_ lonely during that big old _war_ -”

“Alright, alright, shut up.” Eugene said, jabbing Snafu with his elbow when he snorted in derision. “Besides, that doesn’t even make sense. You never made a move on me during.”

“Damn right I didn’t.” Snafu said, leaning into Eugene’s side as he watched his red float bob in the water. “Knew you were all, _bien-élevé_ , too good for me, little stuck up pretty boy I didn’t deserve.”

Eugene processed that for a second, swishing his feet in the cold water as he unpacked it. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He asked, in case he’d heard it wrong. Snafu had taken his silence as an opportunity to strip his shirt off, in typical Snafu fashion, so his reply was muffled.

“Sure.” He pulled the shirt over his head, hair sticking up and face pink. He tossed it to the side, and Eugene watched the play of muscles in his chest, his arm. Too good for him? Shit. “But I know now.” Snafu said, voice dropping lower as he eyed Eugene up.

“Know what?” Eugene asked, tearing his eyes away from Snafu’s chest, the tiny roll of his stomach from how he was sitting. Snafu was smirking, eyes pale and devouring, unblinking behind a gauze of smoke, lit from below by the water throwing bright reflected ripples onto his sun-darkened skin.

“That you like a little bit of rough, huh, Gene?” He murmured, voice like molasses, thick and dark and sweet. Eugene swallowed, eyes dropping to Snafu’s mouth, flicking back up to his eyes. The moment stretched, and then Snafu pulled Eugene into a kiss that was all biting heat, the taste of smoke. His hand that held his cigarette was cupping the back of Eugene’s head, and he felt like it could detach and drift away as Snafu’s other hand slid to his knee, his thigh. He jumped at the press of fingertips to the seam on his inner thigh, and Snafu broke away from his mouth with a laugh. Eugene gaped at him, and Snafu pressed a final, sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting go of him. “Now let me fish in peace.” He said, tone steady like he hadn’t just short circuited Eugene’s brain as easily as he’d tied that hook. “Enough questions, shit.”

“You-” Eugene attempted to dig down deep into his now-clouded brain to find out what his next word was meant to be. “Bastard?” He managed, and Snafu nodded thoughtfully.

“You ain’t wrong, boo.” Snafu’s float popped under the water then, “Hey!” He cried, reeling it in. “Got one, Sledgehammer.”

“You ain’t half bad.” Eugene said, watching. Snafu hummed.

“Used to go fishing on the bayou.” He said, “Only thing besides killing I was good at.” He held the fish aloft, eyes crinkled in a grin. “ _Ç'est magnifique!_ ”

Eugene watched as he took the hook from the fish's mouth, feeling suddenly sorry for it as it gasped and flopped in his hands. “Let it go.” He said, feeling a little sick at the thought of Snafu killing it. Snafu gave him a puzzled look, like he was talking crazy, and Eugene repeated himself, a little more forceful. “Let it go, Snaf.”

Snafu stared at him, and then he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Fine.” He muttered, letting it slip away into the water. “Too small anyways.”

His tone reminded Eugene of the feel of blood soaked Japanese uniform in his fist, the smell of decay and his knife slippery with sweat in his hand. He still had that insignia, he thought, somewhere. 

Fishing lost its excitement for Eugene after that, and he spent the next few hours lying in the grass with a book. Snafu caught a few more fish, some he killed, some he didn’t. Before long, the midday sun was creeping up into the sky, and Eugene was near-dizzy from the heat. Snafu seemed largely unaffected by it, his shoulders and nose flushed red under his brown skin, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat. 

“You’re looking a little pink, _cher_.” Snafu said, laying down his fishing pole so he could come sit next to Eugene, who gave him a dirty look over the lip of his water bottle. Snafu smirked, eyes lit up with teasing amusement. “What’s the matter, little Southern belle can’t stand the heat?”

Eugene spluttered on a mouthful of water. “What did you call me?” Snafu’s grin widened.

“What, you ain’t a nice little Southern belle, Gene?” His voice was thick, cloying. Eugene felt his ears heat up, and he sat up straight as Snafu inched closer. “I must’a read you wrong, boo. Forgive me, but ain’t you just the picture of it with that red hair, all that pale skin. Nice and chaste and sweet.” His mouth was at Eugene’s ear, low and lazy, sending a prickle of heat through him. Eugene clenched his fingers around his water bottle, eyes fixed on the the bank of the stream. “How does it feel for a nice boy like you to be roughin’ it with a guy like me?”

“Snafu.” Eugene said, jaw tight. “Shut the fuck up.” The water bottle was lukewarm, clenched in his fist. Snafu’s lips on his jaw felt like burning. Eugene would let himself be burned up in an instant by the forest fire that was Snafu, uncontrollable, unpredictable, terrifying.

“Make me, sugar.” Snafu murmured, and when Eugene dropped the bottle to the ground to grab Snafu, he was grinning like he’d won something. Maybe this was all it took, Eugene thought as he pulled Snafu back against the grass, to make him toe that taboo, invisible line. _Only queers past this line._ Well. What did that make him?

Snafu’s mouth was as hot as the midday sun, eager against his own. Sloppy. Eugene thought maybe he should hate it, but the part of him that wasn’t that nice Southern boy he’d been raised to be loved it. He loved Snafu’s big hands on his waist, his jaw, the bite of his teeth and the way his tongue pressed against his own. The grass was cool against his back, shirt ridden up after Snafu had shoved his hand up to press sure and steady against his spine. Snafu had always been loyal to a fault, like a dog, like someone who didn’t ever get enough kindness, and Eugene loved that about him. He kissed him hard, hands cupping Snafu’s sharp jaw like the precious thing he was. 

His knees were up around Snafu’s waist, the hard press of his body against his front, between them. He was mildly embarrassed about it, but it felt almost whorish in a way that made his stomach tighten. Snafu was hard against his thigh, and Eugene kissed him breathless in an attempt to ignore that. The heat was making his hair stick to his forehead with sweat, and some small part of him realised he didn’t want to lose his virginity here. Not next to a creek, in the grass, with Snafu nipping excited and filthy at his throat, his collarbones. His parents were gone, he wanted white sheets and the right person and every other thing he’d expected for his first time. He wondered if Snafu knew.

“Snafu.” He gasped, tipping his face into the grass as Snafu kissed at his throat, hands around his waist and arching him up towards the lean, wiry press of his body. “Stop.” He said, and Snafu pressed his face to his neck, breathed out slow. 

“You good, _cher?_ ” His voice was rough, but warm. Eugene felt affection bloom in his chest.

“Yeah.” He said, sliding his hand from the nape of Snafu’s neck to his curls. He grinned when Snafu raised his head, those big green eyes heavy lidded and vague. He was still hard, pressed up against Eugene’s inner thigh like a promise, a temptation. “I just-”

“It’s okay.” Snafu murmured, and kissed him again, gentle. “We can take it slow.”

“You don’t seem like the sort to take it slow.” Eugene teased, and Snafu laughed.

“I’m not,” He said, and kissed Eugene again, just because he could. “But I would for you.”

It was heavy, and Eugene laughed because he didn’t know how else to react. “That’s a lot.” He breathed, and Snafu just grinned at him, like he knew something Eugene didn’t. It took him a minute in his kiss-addled brain, but when it connected he threw a hand over his face and grimaced. “God, you know I’ve not done it before.”

Snafu was laughing, and he sat back on his heels to prise Eugene’s hand from his eyes. “Knew the minute I saw you.” He said in that voice like dark honey. Eugene never knew he had a thing for Louisiana boys before this. “Don’t matter at all.”

Eugene groaned, but let himself be tugged forward so he wasn’t lying on the ground anymore. Snafu’s hand was tight on his wrist, and he didn’t let go, just pulled Eugene in closer and kissed him, slow and lingering. Eugene hooked his fingers in the necklace Snafu wore, the one he’d mistaken for dog tags the first time he’d seen him shirtless after so long, and let himself be kissed until his embarrassment fled.

“How’d you know?” He asked, when Snafu broke away to sprawl out on the grass. The dime on his necklace winked in the sun, and Eugene rubbed the centre of his chest as he looked at it. The phantom weight of his dog tags still hung there, sometimes. He hadn’t worn them since the war, hadn’t even looked at them. He didn’t like the reminder that he could have so easily been one of the unrecognisable, anonymous dead they’d been surrounded by every day.

Snafu shrugged easily, taking a long pull from the bottle of water. A bead of water escaped the corner of his mouth, and Eugene tracked its progress as it slid down the brown skin of his throat. “You were eighteen and a good little rich boy.” Snafu said simply, jolting Eugene out of his reveries. “Probably most of the men there ain’t fucked as many girls as they said. Thought you were waitin’ on a girl back home.” He grinned, lazy and amused. “Now I know better.”

Eugene blushed, right to the tips of his ears. “Just never got ‘round to it.” He mumbled, dropping his eyes to the ground. Snafu made a dismissive noise.

“Don’t matter none.” He said, reaching for Eugene and settling for smoothing his thumb over the jut of Eugene’s ankle. “I’ll take care of you.” He grinned, and Eugene looked away, embarrassed. The promise of what was to come had settled in his stomach like a lead weight, and he couldn’t work out if it was anxiety or anticipation or some heady mix of the two. 

“You wanna go swimming?” He asked the ground, and Snafu squeezed his ankle once before releasing it. When Eugene looked, he was standing, his rolled up pants already slipping low on his hips.

“Never thought you’d ask.” He said, and tugged Eugene up from the ground and into a firm kiss. Snafu patted his ass, grinning when Eugene wiggled out of his grasp. “C’mon soldier, take ‘em off, let’s go for a dip.”

\------

Eugene poured them both a neat measure of his father’s scotch when they got back from fishing, and they sat on the porch and watched the sun go down as they drank it. Eugene was feeling warm and content, a little sunburnt from being out all day. Snafu had a cigarette burning down between his fingers, and the smell was comforting and familiar.

“You know,” Eugene said thoughtfully. “I used to imagine you, here. Eating dinner with my family, seeing you in all my familiar places. All that.”

Snafu grinned, slow and pleased. “You didn’t.”

Eugene laughed. “I did!” He took a sip of his scotch. “It was just silly daydreaming. Just something nice to think about.”

Snafu hummed, eyes staring off into the middle distance. “Happened though, didn’t it?”

Eugene looked across at him, at his sharp profile lit by the setting sun. “I guess it did.” He murmured softly. Snafu looked at him then, and his eyes were gentle, the line of his mouth soft and relaxed. “Let’s go to bed.” Eugene murmured, and Snafu’s eyes stayed steady on him, all consuming.

He let himself be tugged out of his chair, up the stairs and into Eugene’s bedroom. The house was silent around them, that evening hush that Eugene associated with blue summer nights and his youth. He wondered what himself of five years ago would think of himself now, as he let Snafu pull his shirt over his head with gentle hands. He smoothed down Eugene’s hair after he dropped it to the floor, and Eugene took that opportunity to close the distance between them and kiss him. Their noses bumped, and Eugene made a sound of embarrassment before Snafu kissed him softly.

“Take it slow, _cher_.” He murmured. “There ain’t no rush.” He shrugged off his unbuttoned shirt as he kissed Eugene, tossing it behind him before his hands settled on Eugene’s waist. There was something comforting in his sureness, his experience, and Eugene was more than willing to give himself up to Snafu and let him lead the way. 

Snafu walked him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and Eugene let himself fall back onto it when Snafu pressed an encouraging hand to his sternum. Snafu joined him a second later, propping himself up on an elbow as he gazed down at Eugene, who felt himself going pink at the attention.

“Look at you.” Snafu breathed, almost awed. The light from the desk lamp lit him from behind, made his curls into a halo around his face. Eugene wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful, felt almost drunk with it.

“Quit it, Snaf.” He mumbled, turning his face away so he wasn’t speared by Snafu’s gaze anymore. Snafu had always had the most intense, unnerving gaze, and to have the full force of it turned on him was almost too much to handle. Wordlessly, Snafu turned his face so he could see him again, and kissed him with an intensity that left Eugene feeling hot all over. The touch of skin to skin was heady, and he traced his hands up Snafu’s sides, across his back, down the wiry muscles of his arms. 

“Take your pants off.” Snafu said, voice shot. His ears were pink, lips red to match, and Eugene dragged him down for another desperate kiss before moving away to pull the rest of his clothes off. When he looked back, Snafu was naked, sitting up against the headboard as he waited for Eugene. They stared at each other, speechless for a split second, before Snafu’s face cracked in a grin and he laughed. Relieved, Eugene laughed too, a breathless, nervous sound. The heavy tension in the air eased a little, and Snafu gestured for Eugene to come join him.

“C’mon, Gene.” He murmured. “Like you ain’t seen my dick before.”

“Not like _this_.” Eugene protested, hands freezing in the air as Snafu settled himself in his lap. He gulped, all this smooth dark skin close enough to kiss and he didn’t know what to do with his _hands_. “Sorry, I’m-”

“It’s okay, _bé_.” Snafu said, a laugh still in his voice. “Look, here.” He took Eugene’s hands and placed them on his waist, and cupped Eugene’s face with his own. “Just relax.”

“Okay.” Eugene murmured, and let Snafu tilt his face up and kiss him. He was very aware of Snafu’s hard cock against his stomach, and the same flush of arousal from earlier went through him as he gripped Snafu’s narrow waist. His fingers were only inches from each other, and that observation lit something primal in him. Snafu was so slight and small, Eugene could press him into the sheets so easily. The idea of the mean, tough soldier he’d known, flushed and speechless with pleasure underneath him, made Eugene’s cock ache between his legs. He pressed up against Snafu, grinding his cock into his own, and Snafu grinned into their kiss.

“That’s it.” He murmured into Eugene’s mouth, and Eugene groaned and pulled Snafu down against him at the same time he rutted up against him. Snafu’s mouth dropped open, his eyes dark under heavy lids as he watched Eugene pant. “You getting off grinding against my cock?” He asked, mouth curling into a smile when Eugene cursed and did it again. 

“I want-” Eugene stopped himself, unable to say it out loud. 

Snafu kissed his jaw, his throat, lips tickling the sensitive spot below his ear when he whispered, “What do you want, baby?” 

Eugene skimmed his hand up the strong line of Snafu’s back, the other cupping a generous handful of Snafu’s ass as he Snafu ground down against him. “I can’t.” He tipped his head back against the headboard, blinking up at Snafu as he moved away from his neck.

“Say it.” He said, and Eugene licked his lips.

“I wanna blow you.” He said in a rush, and Snafu didn’t even reply, just kissed him hard. Eugene could still taste the scotch on his tongue, and became very aware that he wanted to taste _Snafu_ in his mouth. 

“Please.” Snafu breathed, sounding almost desperate as his nails scratched down Eugene’s chest. “Wanted your mouth for so long.” He rambled, as Eugene rolled him onto his back in one easy motion. “Ever since I saw you lookin’ so green and dumb clueless, that first day.”

“Yeah?” Eugene said, moving down the bed until he was between Snafu’s legs. His cock was vaguely intimidating, not because it was any incredible size (not that Eugene had much to compare it with besides his own) but because he was suddenly struck with how out of his depth he was. He flicked his gaze upwards, and Snafu came to cradle the side of his face tenderly. 

“Yeah.” He said, slow, an affectionate smile on his face. It contrasted with the spots of red high on his cheekbones, the flush of his hard cock against his belly. Eugene wanted it, so bad, but didn’t even know where to begin. “You look as scared now as you did back then. Start slow, _cher_.”

“Sure.” Eugene murmured, wrapping a hand around the base of Snafu’s cock. “Slow.”

Snafu felt too big and almost awkward in his mouth, but the reaction he got from just sucking on the head of his cock made his chest light with pleasure and something like bravery. Snafu dropped his head back against the wall, eyes screwed shut as he curled his fingers in the short strands of Eugene’s hair.

“Just like that.” Snafu said, voice tight, and moaned when Eugene curled his tongue over the head, went further down as Snafu’s moans urged him on. 

It was sloppy, and Eugene knew he was far less experienced than Snafu may have been used to, but judging by the noises he was making he didn’t mind one bit. Emboldened, Eugene took him further into mouth until the head of his cock bumped the back of his throat, and Snafu swore in French, his hand clenching in Eugene’s hair.

“Fuck, _ta bouche est étonnante_.” Snafu said, voice rough as he tilted his hips up, sliding his spit slick cock further into Eugene’s mouth. Eugene glowed under what he assumed was praise, free hand pushing Snafu’s thigh wider, fingers digging into the hard muscle as he sucked his cock with new confidence. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, he thought, eyes flicking up to look at Snafu as he pulled off and let his tongue curl around the head. Snafu was taut as a bowstring, one hand thrown over his face, the other clenched so tight in Eugene’s hair it almost hurt. His mouth was open, those red lips slick as he panted against his arm.

Eugene sank back down on his cock, and Snafu cursed, curled his hand down the side of Eugene’s face to feel how his lips stretched around his cock. It was almost sweet, and Eugene tilted his face into his palm as he worked his mouth over him. 

“I’m gonna come, Gene.” Snafu warned in a low voice, propping himself up on his elbows to watch. “C’mere.” He pressed on the nape of Eugene’s neck until he let his cock slip from his mouth, and followed him up until he was settled into his side. Snafu caught him by the wrist, a smirk curving his mouth as he brought Eugene’s hand back between his legs. “Kiss me.” He murmured, smirk slipping as his jaw went slack when Eugene took his cock in his hand. 

“Snafu.” Eugene murmured, surprised at how shot his voice was. Snafu pressed his face into Eugene’s neck, hands curling in his hair as Eugene’s hand moved on him. He could feel Snafu’s mouth on his pulse, wet and open as he gasped when Eugene twisted his wrist on the upstroke. “Hey,” Eugene breathed, nosing at Snafu’s temple until he lifted his head and kissed him, blindly, desperately. “You gonna come for me?” Eugene murmured against his mouth, and then Snafu was arching up against him, and Eugene’s hand was slick around his cock, and he was sure he’d never heard anything so perfect as the noise Snafu made when he came. He kissed him through it, until Snafu slumped boneless against his chest and grinned into the kiss.

“ _Merde_.” He mumbled, hand slipping to Eugene’s nape as he pulled him close. He breathed out slow, pressed a kiss to Eugene’s collarbone before he was pushing him back against the pillows with a hand on his shoulder.

“Was it good?” Eugene asked, watching as Snafu moved to kneel between his legs. He’d forgotten all about his own arousal, too busy trying to make Snafu feel good, but the first touch of Snafu’s hand to his cock brought it all back in a rush. He bit his tongue in an attempt to stifle the embarrassing noise he wanted to make, and Snafu smirked lazily. 

“Pretty damn good for a first-timer.” He said lowly, and Eugene felt himself blush. He looked spent, eyelids drooping over glazed eyes, and he leaned in to kiss Eugene on the mouth before he moved to his neck, his chest, his stomach. Eugene closed his eyes at the feel of his tongue against his skin, counting backwards in his head from a hundred in an attempt to stop himself from coming straight away. Snafu’s hand was loose on his cock, nothing more than something to keep him interested while Snafu mapped out his body, but Eugene had only ever had the company of his own hand for twenty-four long years. He was very very close to coming on his own stomach before Snafu even made it to his cock. “Better than a lot of old hands too, sugar.” His lips brushed against Eugene’s belly, and when Eugene cracked open his eyes Snafu was smirking up at him from down the length of his body. 

“Really?” Eugene asked, voice coming out thin and breathless when Snafu spread his legs to kiss the soft, white skin of his inner thighs.

“Really.” Snafu said, eyes heavy on Eugene’s face. “But now it’s my turn.” His voice was molten, low and rolling like thunder. Eugene felt distinctly like the rabbit trapped by the fox; one wrong move and Snafu would eat him whole. He didn’t mind the feeling at all. 

Slow, he brought his hand to cup Snafu’s jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of his mouth until Snafu turned his face into the touch. Opened his mouth and, without looking away from Eugene, closed his mouth over the tip of his thumb. His teeth scraped against his skin, and Eugene couldn’t help the breath he drew in as Snafu’s tongue curled around it. Gently, he drew away, pressed his fingertips to the seam of Snafu’s mouth and felt arousal curl in his stomach when Snafu opened his mouth and let him press his fingers in. That wide, smart mouth, open just for him. That pouty upper lip, Eugene pressed his thumb to it, and Snafu let him push his mouth open wider, the fillings in his molars bared. Eugene felt powerful, in control, and he liked it. With wet fingers, he gripped hold of Snafu’s chin and pulled him towards his cock. Snafu, eyes heavy lidded and burning in his face, went willingly, silently.

“Guess this is a good way to shut you up.” Eugene murmured, and Snafu’s eyes slid shut as he took Eugene’s cock into his mouth. Right down to the base, mouth so shockingly wet and hot that Eugene moaned louder than he really should, clenched his hands in the sheets. “Christ, Snaf.”

Snafu hummed around him in answer, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze before dropping back down to concentrate on his task. His lashes were dark against his cheeks, and Eugene laced one shaky hand in his curls he worked his mouth over him. Eugene shouldn’t find the easy, practised way he took him into his throat hot, but goddamn him if he didn’t. Snafu being experienced should make him feel protective, jealous, but Eugene couldn’t help but love how he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Eugene could feel his orgasm building after a matter of minutes, counting backwards be damned. Snafu’s mouth just felt too good, so alien from anything he’d ever felt before, and he couldn’t help himself from rocking up into the wet heat of his mouth the closer he came to finishing. Snafu let him, opening his mouth wide and letting Eugene grind into his throat however he liked. It was too much, Snafu’s mouth, his face, the way he moaned whenever Eugene tugged on his hair a little too hard.

“I’m gonna-” Eugene choked out, feeling it was only fair to give Snafu the warning he’d given him. However, Snafu just closed his mouth around Eugene’s cock and let him come just like that, thrusting sloppily into his mouth as he panted through his orgasm. “Jesus Christ, Snaf.”

Snafu pressed his thumb to the side of his mouth when he pulled off Eugene’s cock, tipping him a little wink as Eugene sagged into the pillows. “Good?” He asked, and his voice was so rough from Eugene’s cock in his throat that he felt a low throb of arousal go through him. He’d done that. He’d made Snafu’s voice shot, his lips all slick and red. 

“Something like that.” Eugene murmured, voice sounding very far away. To say it was one of the best orgasms of his life would be an understatement. Snafu’s face split into a grin at that, and he leaned forward over Eugene to kiss him, soft and lingering. Eugene hummed, feeling sleepy and loose, limbs pleasantly weighty. 

“C’mon.” Snafu murmured, manoeuvring the two of them under the covers until his face was pressed to Eugene’s throat. Eugene kissed the crown of his head, holding him tight to his chest.

There was something building up in his chest, his heart huge and thudding behind his breastbone with unspoken words. He wondered if Snafu could hear it, whether he knew already. _I love you_ , Eugene thought as he pressed his thumbs into the hollows behind Snafu’s jaw, tilted his face up to kiss him.

Snafu tipped his forehead against Eugene’s, and it felt like a silent acknowledgement to all the unsaid words crowding Eugene’s throat. He felt choked up with them, but Snafu kissed him until he was floating, so close to sleep that he could barely reciprocate. 

The two of them were two halves of a whole and now they fit together like they never were apart. Eugene didn’t want it to end, just held Snafu close on that border between wakefulness and sleep, and prayed that they never had to separate again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! may update with the next chapter later this week, we'll see how busy i am lmao
> 
> comments r always appreciated + ty for all the kind comments on the last chapter :^)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for referenced familial abuse

They were sharing a breakfast of pastries, cooked by Joyce and still warm when Eugene tore into one. Snafu was sipping at a cup of coffee, eyes closed against the sunlight on his face and limbs loose and lazy, sprawled all over the place. 

“Next time,” Snafu said, leaning forward to exchange his cup for a pastry with a grunt. “I want you to fuck me.”

Eugene almost choked on his food, and he thumped at his chest as Snafu watched impassively, tearing off little pieces of pastry and popping them into his mouth. “You...what?” Eugene spluttered, and the corner of Snafu’s mouth quirked into a smile.

“You heard.” He said cheerfully, finishing off his food as Eugene gaped at him. His fingers were greasy, and he wiped them on his trousers carelessly. 

“I’m sure I didn’t hear what I thought I did.” Eugene said tightly, face hot. “Because it’d be incredibly stupid, even for you, to talk about that stuff in public.”

“Ain’t public.” Snafu countered, folding his knees up to his chest as he waited. The wicker chair creaked as he shifted his weight, and Eugene spared a glance to the open patio doors before leaning forward to reply.

“You know what I mean, Snafu.” He hissed, and Snafu just raised his brows.

“S’that a yes, then?”

Eugene let himself picture that, just for a second, using what limited knowledge he had. He was reminded viscerally of how he’d felt at the idea of pinning Snafu down, and cleared his throat as he felt his face flush hotter. “It’s not a no.” He said stiffly, and Snafu grinned at him.

“Good talk.” He said, and closed his eyes as he went back to sunning himself. _Like a goddamn cat_ , Eugene thought as he watched him, _just a big, overgrown cat, knocking over shit just because he can._

“You’re an ass, Shelton.” He said, and Snafu just snorted.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, Sledgehammer.”

Eugene wasn’t sure when ‘next time’ might have been, as his parents came back that evening which sent Snafu back to hugging the walls and sleeping in his own bed. Eugene missed him so deeply it was surprising. He’d gotten so used to having Snafu snoring warm and curled up next to him for the past few days that falling asleep in his empty bed proved almost futile. Creeping down the hall to the guest room lit a sort of immature fire in him, something akin to the excitement of sneaking out. It continued that way for a few weeks, in which he or Snafu would take turns sneaking into each other’s beds and leaving before dawn.

He had a creeping suspicion that his mother had worked it out, or was well on her way to working it out. Whether she’d shared her thoughts with his father, Eugene didn’t know, but he noticed the way she looked between them at the dinner table. The way her smile would turn brittle whenever she found the two of them alone, or how often she brought up the fact that Eugene would be returning to university soon, once the summer was out. 

“She wants me out.” Snafu murmured one night, the two of them passing a cigarette back and forth as they listened to the radio out on the porch. Eugene pulled a face, and Snafu shook his head, exhaled quickly. “Nah, don’t bullshit me, Gene. You’ve seen it. She looks at me like I ain’t worth the breath she’d waste tellin’ me to beat it.”

“You’re paranoid.” Eugene muttered, wondering if he talked Snafu out of it maybe it would stop being real. 

“Not about _this_.” Snafu hissed, stabbing the air with his cigarette like that made his point. Eugene took it from him gently, and watched as Snafu folded in on himself, anxious. 

“We’ve been careful about it.” Eugene said, when it became clear Snafu had nothing else to offer. “There’s no way she knows, and even if she did, it wouldn’t be you who’d be in trouble.”

“I’ve been chased outta one too many places by fathers angry after I made their precious sons queer to know that’s a damn lie.” Snafu muttered, and Eugene passed him back the cigarette because he looked like he truly needed it. “Thank you.” He said, sullen, and took a drag.

“Does my father look like he’s gonna be chasing anyone anywhere?” Eugene asked, bumping his shoulder to Snafu’s in an attempt to comfort him. “You don’t need to be so scared.”

“I ain’t _scared_.” Snafu spat. “I just ain’t too fond of,” He shrugged, gesturing wildly with the hand that held his cigarette. Ash drifted down onto his black slacks, and he brushed at it irritably, leaving long white streaks. “Fathers.”

Eugene pulled a face, tilting his head to look at Snafu in the dim lights of the porch. Snafu was scowling, resolutely avoiding Eugene’s eyes as he glared off across the lawn. “You’re a Marine,” Eugene said, stupidly. “I’ve seen you kill dozens of men. What’ve you got to be scared of from an old man?”

Snafu threw his cigarette butt into the darkness and lit another, knee bouncing and shaking the wood beneath them as he exhaled with a scowl. “Pa used to beat us.” He said shortly, and shook his head straight after like he hadn’t meant to say that. “Got beat on a lot by the fathers of old boyfriends, like I said. Ain’t too good ‘round older men now.”

Eugene was silent for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he tried to work out what to say to that. Snafu gave him a quick, sidelong look, and Eugene couldn’t miss the way his face twisted as he looked away. Oh, Christ. “Snafu, my father isn’t gonna come after you.”

“You don’t know that.” Snafu said, quick like he’d been expecting it. He had his free hand clenched in his curls, another nervous tic that Eugene recognised from the war. Eugene looked at his hands, at a sudden loss for what to say. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Snaf.” He said, and Snafu just grunted. “They don’t know a thing.”

“They _suspect_.” Snafu said, icy. “ _Merde_ , this was a mistake.” He rubbed at his face, and Eugene felt something heavy drop into his stomach. 

“You mean that?” He asked, tentative, and Snafu took a harsh drag off his cigarette as he shrugged.

“Dunno. Maybe.” He shook his head. “Would’ve been better off not interferin’ in your life, Gene. You coulda found a nice girl and settled on down if I hadn’t shown my fuckin’ face on a goddamn whim.”

Eugene recoiled, hurt. “You think I’d have been better off without you?” He couldn’t conceal the hurt in his voice, knew Snafu had picked up on it.

“I _know_ you’d’ve been better off.” He replied, still not looking at Eugene. “I ain’t doing you no favours messing you up like this.” He gestured, cigarette arcing orange through the night air as he summed up their whole relationship in one swoop. Kissing in the stream, holding Eugene after yet another nightmare, every small, hidden touch and gentle glance. 

“You didn’t mess me up.” Eugene said sharply, and Snafu just scoffed and turned his face away. His hand was trembling when he raised his cigarette to his mouth. Eugene hated this part of Snafu, when he acted like he could make Eugene’s decisions for him, like he knew what was better for him that he did himself. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. I knew exactly what I was doing the whole time, Snafu.” Eugene tried to keep his voice low, very aware of the open patio doors and the fact that his parents were probably still awake. Snafu didn’t reply, and Eugene grabbed him by the arm and shook him, made him look at him. Snafu glared, attempting anger but Eugene could read the downward tilt of his expressive mouth, the way he was blinking too much, too fast. 

“Let go.” Snafu said coldly, and when Eugene didn’t release his arm his mouth twisted, ugly and upset. “Get the fuck off me, Eugene.” He pulled his arm from Eugene’s grasp, curling into himself like he was hurting. “You don’t know anythin’ about living like this.” He hissed meanly. “It’s goddamn lonely. You think you won’t care when you can’t talk to your friends, your family, about any of this? Keepin’ watch all the goddamn time in case you’re caught? When you can’t touch me in public in case someone sees?” When Eugene didn’t reply straight away, Snafu nodded, turning away to inhale harshly on the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. It ain’t all foolin’ around in the sun.”

“I never said it was.” Eugene said shortly, “You think I’m that stupid?”

“I ain’t the one sayin’ your parents don’t know about us.” Snafu muttered, and Eugene gritted his teeth at the careless way he spoke. 

“You’re the idiot if you don’t think I’d give up all of it for you.” Eugene said, and was surprised by the tears that burned in the back of his throat. Snafu flicked the butt of his cigarette away, embers trailing through the darkness. “I love you, you goddamn asshole.”

Snafu _flinched_ , and when he finally turned to look at Eugene his eyes were wide, stunned. “Take that back.” He said, voice wobbling on the last word. Eugene shook his head, firm. He felt a little lightheaded, shocked with himself for saying it just like that, but how else was he supposed to get through Snafu’s thick skull? “Gene.” Snafu said, voice almost pleading.

“I won’t lie.” He murmured, and Snafu was staring at him like he’d seen a ghost, unblinking. “I do love you, Snaf.”

Snafu’s face crumpled, and he dropped his head into his hands as he groaned. “ _Christ_.” He breathed, curving his arms over his head. “Jesus.”

It wasn’t the reaction Eugene thought he’d get, but he supposed pulling it out during an argument wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined admitting it would go. When he reached out to touch Snafu’s shoulder, he flinched away from him, fingers tight in his hair. “Snafu?”

“Take it back.” Snafu said, raising his face from his arms and fixing Eugene with an expression that was almost _scared_. Eugene frowned, confused.

“What? No.” Snafu grimaced, and Eugene sighed heavily. “Snaf, you don’t have to act like you just nailed my coffin shut, Jesus.”

“It’s practically the same goddamn thing.” Snafu snapped, “You don’t mean it.”

“I _do_.” Eugene cried, “What’ve I gotta do to prove that to you? Loving you ain’t gonna kill me.”

“It might.” Snafu said miserably, but when Eugene curved his hand around the back of his head, he didn’t fight it. “You don’t want this life.” He said, and Eugene knew it was the fear that was making him lash out.

“I really do.” Eugene murmured, and pulled Snafu into his chest. He went willingly, all the fight suddenly gone from him. “I haven’t been as happy in years as I’ve been since you came here.” Eugene pressed a kiss to his temple, and Snafu made a miserable noise against his shirtfront.

“I want you to have the life you deserve.” He murmured, and Eugene smiled into his hair.

“You don’t think you can factor into that?”

“Dunno.” Snafu replied, “Never considered it for real. Just daydreams.”

They sat silently for a while, Eugene stroking his fingers through Snafu’s thick hair as his breathing evened out. “You know I wouldn’t let anyone come for us.” He said eventually, and Snafu snorted.

“Even your daddy?”

“Even him.” Eugene said with a grin, and Snafu didn’t reply. “Let’s go to bed.”

Snafu followed him through the house like a kicked dog, head hung low, and the way he hesitated in the doorway of Eugene’s bedroom made his heart ache. Like he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to come in, or not. Eugene tugged his shirt off, tilted his head towards the bed with a raised eyebrow. Snafu went willingly, hand coming up to brush over Eugene’s shoulder as he passed.

Eugene didn’t like to see him this morose. Anger he was familiar with to the point of it almost being a comfort. Even watching him spaced out and distant was preferable. He folded himself into bed slowly, tucked himself up to Snafu’s back and breathed in the smell of his hair just to remind himself that he was still the same. Home was the jut of Snafu’s skinny hip, the curve of his throat, the overgrown curls on his head. It wasn’t this too-big house, not the careful, reserved glances of his parents, not his cavernous and overly soft bed that he couldn’t get a minute of peaceful sleep in unless Snafu was pressed to his front.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” Snafu said quietly, unprompted. Eugene was almost startled, it was as much an apology as he’d ever heard from Snafu. “You ain’t a mistake.”

Eugene didn’t reply for a minute, oddly touched by Snafu’s clumsy attempts at apologising. “S’all right, Snaf.” He murmured eventually. “You’re always saying things you don’t mean.”

Snafu snorted at that, and said, “Only sometimes.” 

They lay in silence, curled up around each other even though it was really too warm for it. Eugene was trailing his fingers of Snafu’s stomach, grazing his fingers over the hair on his belly, the very slight softness below his navel. 

“Is it true?” He asked, and Snafu hummed questioningly. “What you said about being queer?”

“You mean was I lying when I said it ain’t a walk in the park?” Snafu asked, and there was just a bite of his usual sarcasm that it was comforting. He snorted. “What d’you think, Gene?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it,” He said, “In a practical way, that is.” The gentle rise and fall of Snafu’s side under his palm was soothing, and Eugene squeezed affectionately at the dip of his waist, pressed his face into his curls. “Is it really so horrible?”

“No,” Snafu said, voice considering, like he’d never really thought about it that way either. “No, it ain’t horrible, Gene.” He was quiet for a moment, and then half turned so he could catch Eugene’s gaze. His mouth was a little open, eyes searching as he looked at him. “‘S’all worth it when you find someone you’d go through hellfire for.”

The night rang with the silence that followed his words. Eugene kissed him, because there was nothing else to do, thumb sliding over the sharp line of his jaw as he held him close. There was something blooming wild in his chest, suffocating in its intensity. “You mean that?” He murmured, voice a little thin with his heart so huge in his throat.

Snafu gave him a long, searching look, worrying his lip between his teeth before he glanced away. “Yeah.” He muttered, “Yeah.” A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, and Eugene pressed his thumb to it, suddenly so thankful for every terrible event that had led the two of them to this moment.

“That’s a lot.” He said, a nervous laugh bubbling up in his throat. Snafu rolled his eyes and turned back over, pressing back against Eugene’s chest until he wrapped his arms around him.

“Don’t get used to it, boo.” He murmured, “You know I gotta keep my tough exterior up.”

Eugene pressed his face into the crown of Snafu’s head, breathed in the familiar smell of him, smiling to himself. Snafu was like he had popped out of the world fully formed, back into Eugene’s life like he’d always been there. Like Eugene hadn’t spent the last few years alternately hating and missing him so bad it took his mind off the war for a time.

“What have you been doing these past two years, Snaf?” He asked, voice low as he pressed a kiss to the nape of Snafu’s neck. 

“Drinkin’ too much, workin’ a job I hate, drinkin’ less,” He took a deep breath, “Bleedin’ out that goddamn war. Tryin’ to forget about you.”

Eugene smiled, despite himself. Secret and hidden in Snafu’s curls. “How’d that go?”

“Pretty fuckin’ badly, I guess.” Snafu replied, sardonic. Eugene laughed, stroking his hand along Snafu’s side absently, just because he could. Snafu caught it, linking their fingers together as he breathed out slowly. “Y’know,” He said, so quiet that Eugene could barely hear him. “I love you too?”

Eugene grinned, and squeezed Snafu’s fingers. “Yeah,” He murmured, “I just might.”

\--------

Eugene woke to Snafu nosing along the line of his jaw, hands sweet and gentle on the dip of his waist. He pressed a kiss to his throat, and Eugene sighed and rolled over into the warmth of Snafu’s body, holding him tighter in his arms.

“‘Mornin’” He mumbled, eyes not yet open but a smile already curving his lips. Snafu kissed his jaw, the corner of his mouth, his eyelids. 

“I love you.” He said, seriously, and Eugene’s smile widened. He pressed his face into Snafu’s bony shoulder, and grinned against his skin when Snafu bit lightly at the shell of his ear. “Hey.”

“I know, I know.” Eugene said, not a lot more than a half-asleep slur, and kissed the bump of Snafu’s collarbone. “Love you too.”

“You were snorin’.” Snafu said, lazy, and pressed a kiss to the top of Eugene’s head. His arms were thrown above his head, surrendered, open and vulnerable. Fingers tangled in his own hair. Eugene realised in increments that he was hard in his underwear, and all of Snafu’s bare, brown skin wasn’t helping at all. “Never did that during the war.”

“Would’ve killed me if I did.” Eugene said lightly, and rolled his hips into Snafu’s thigh, testing the waters. “We all picked up bad habits once we got out.”

“Yours is worse than mine.” Snafu murmured, and when Eugene raised his head his eyes were closed, a barely-there smile curving his mouth. His hands were strewn loose over his curly head, boyish and mussed and sleepy. 

“What’s yours?” Eugene asked, dropping his face back to Snafu’s throat and grinding up against his thigh again, slow, deliberate. Snafu’s breath hitched in his chest, and when he spoke his voice was low, amused.

“Gambling.” He said, and dropped one hand to Eugene’s hip to pull him against him. “Men. Whiskey. Cigarettes.” His voice was raspy with sleep, and Eugene tilted his face up so he could kiss his mouth. The two of them traded long, slow kisses, wrapped up in the haze of half-wakefulness, arousal, a lazy summer morning. Snafu’s hand was steady on his hip, burning into his skin like a tattoo. He was hard against him, and that single detail alone made Eugene moan into his mouth, made him press him back against the soft mattress.

“Gambling’s pretty bad.” He murmured against the corner of Snafu’s mouth, hands dropping to his ass as he pulled his hips up against his own. Snafu’s fingers flexed on his hip, and he laughed.

“Not the rest?” He drawled, eyes heavy lidded and mouth pouted as he gazed up at Eugene. That full upper lip. Eugene could still feel the memory of pressing his thumb to it. He jerked his hips up against Snafu’s, lazy, unhurried. 

“Can’t fault you.” He said, ducking his head to kiss Snafu’s bared throat. “Have the same vices myself.”

Snafu just laughed, evidently still too asleep for some smart comeback. He ground his hips up against Eugene’s, and moaned on an exhale at the feeling. “You gonna rub off on me, or are we gonna try somethin’ new?”

Eugene was emboldened in his half-wakened state. “What did you have in mind?” He murmured, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at Snafu. He was a little stubbly, having not shaved in a few days, his curls flat on one side from sleeping, pillow creases in his cheek. Eugene thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Not the woods after twilight, not the sun rising over the Pacific, not Sid’s newborn daughter in his arms. Just Snafu, rugged and half asleep, that boyish smile tugging at the corners of his full mouth. Those big old eyes half shut against the warm, mid morning light. “I’d fuck you if my parents weren’t in the house.” He murmured, brave, and Snafu just laughed. The tilt of his hips up, his cock pressing against Eugene’s own, betrayed his detachment.

“What, you think I’d be loud?” Snafu said, a moan falling from his mouth as Eugene pressed him down with a hand on his hip, eyes dropping shut as he rutted against him. 

“I think _I’d_ be.” Eugene whispered, and Snafu’s lips curved into a smile.

“Guess you’ll have to settle for sucking me off.” Snafu murmured, eyes half-shut, and Eugene bared his teeth, feeling something predatory rising in him.

“I guess I will.” He muttered, and kissed Snafu’s mouth, his throat, his chest, his belly. Ducked under the covers like this was something secret, which he supposed it was. He imagined Sid’s reaction if he knew Eugene did this, still kissed boys. Sucked their cocks under the sheets and imagined how it’d feel if he fucked them.

Snafu’s hands tangled in his hair, and Eugene didn’t waste time with teasing, just took Snafu into his throat and pressed his palm against his thigh, opening him up. Snafu made a low noise, like he was trying to keep quiet but couldn’t quite do it. The thought made Eugene hot, that Snafu couldn’t control himself, and he sucked sloppily on Snafu’s cock as he ground his hips against the mattress.

“You like that this is bad, huh?” Snafu drawled above him, and that wasn’t quite right because Eugene liked that this was who he was now. A man with a cock in his mouth, getting so heated about how Snafu was gonna return the favour that he was grinding against his nice, clean sheets. He didn’t care. He loved Snafu, he did, and he might have always had, and it was a good feeling that he could make Snafu feel this good. 

He pulled away long enough to murmur, “I like that you like it,” before ducking his face down against Snafu’s thigh to bite the skin there, trail his mouth over the bony juncture between thigh and pelvis. Snafu made a pleased noise, opened his legs up wider and curled his hand in Eugene’s hair as he mouthed at the base of his cock, his balls.

“You know whatja doin’, sugar?” He said, tone amused as he tightened his fingers in Eugene’s hair. Eugene hummed.

“I don’t.” He said, and licked a broad stripe from Snafu’s ass to the base of his cock, and then again when Snafu threw his head back against the pillows and cursed, too loud. It sent a swoop of arousal through Eugene’s stomach, and he pushed Snafu’s thigh higher so he could get closer.

“Jesus, Gene, you-” He cut himself off, coming apart so easily under Eugene’s tongue, the press of his hands to his thighs, his belly, everywhere but where he needed it the most. Eugene licked over him slow and steady, batted his hand away when Snafu tried to reach down and touch himself. He settled for arching his back against the mattress, fists clenching in the sheets when Eugene finally put his mouth back over his cock. “Where’d ya learn _that_?” Snafu breathed, sounding punch-drunk and out of it, hips twitching into Eugene’s mouth as he bobbed his head on him.

“Who told you to talk so much during sex?” Eugene whispered, and grinned when Snafu snorted, propping himself up on his elbows to watch. “Loudmouth.”

“Get back to work.” Snafu shot back, grin dropping into a moan as Eugene did just that. “ _Merde_.”

Eugene pressed his finger to Snafu’s spit-slick hole, and after that it was all over very quickly. Snafu came with a strangled yelp, slapping a hand across his mouth as he shook through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Eugene swallowed most of it, pulling a face at the taste of it and wiping what he couldn’t catch off his face with the back of his hand.

“‘S an acquired taste.” Snafu mumbled, lazy and low, as he pulled Eugene back up to his level. Eugene laughed, and kissed him, feeling so light in his chest he could hardly bear it. His cock was achingly hard, and he rolled his hips against Snafu’s thigh as he kissed him, grabbing at Snafu’s neat waist as he pressed him closer. 

“Snafu.” He breathed, voice ragged as he pulled his underwear down so he could press against him skin to skin. 

“What d’you want, _cher?_ ” Snafu murmured, accent thick as he curved Eugene’s body into his, hand slipping from his waist to his hip to his ass. “You wanna get off?”

“ _Yes._ ” Eugene said emphatically, all caution thrown to the winds. Snafu was soft and lazy against the hard press of his body, deliberate as he pulled Eugene up against the press of his thigh. 

Snafu looked considering, for a second, tilting his head and pursing his lips as he watched Eugene with heavy lidded eyes. “I could finger you, sugar.”

Eugene dropped his forehead to Snafu’s throat, hiding his face as he whispered, “Please.” And then, “There’s Vaseline in the drawer.”

Snafu broke away from him to look for it, and Eugene watched the play of muscles in his back as he kicked his underwear off. There was something like anxiety fluttering in his chest, a sweet anticipation, and absently he restarted that stopwatch in his mind. This was a step in a direction he wasn’t going to find his way out of, but when Snafu kissed him he realised that perhaps he didn’t want a way out anyway. This was it, and he let himself be gathered against Snafu’s side, melted into his touch and willed that thought from his mind. The tub of Vaseline sat cold against his thigh, and Snafu skimmed his hands over Eugene’s ribcage, down over his hip as he kissed him pliant. 

“You sure?” Snafu asked, and Eugene just nodded and kissed him, hands at his throat as he pressed his hard cock against Snafu’s bony hip.

“I’m sure.” He breathed, and Snafu tugged once at his cock before grabbing for the Vaseline.

“It’ll be weird at first,” Snafu said, slicking up his fingers before pulling Eugene back to his side. He smirked, the corner of his mouth tipping up in that assured smile Eugene loved. “But I know what I’m doing.”

Again, Eugene was sure that that statement should make him jealous, but instead he felt comforted by it. Snafu had never done him wrong before, not deadly wrong, and he felt safe as Snafu told him to open his legs before pressing one slick finger against him. His heart was thudding wild in his chest, but he let himself be kissed as Snafu slowly worked just one finger into him. 

Snafu was right, it was a weird feeling, and it wasn’t until Snafu was two fingers deep that Eugene began to understand why people did this. “Oh,” He said, as Snafu twisted his fingers inside him, and huffed out a laugh against his throat. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah?” Snafu breathed, and his voice rasped low over the word, making Eugene’s stomach feel tight and warm. The slow slide and press of his fingers was maddening, Snafu working him open like he’d never felt before. Eugene’s cock was hard and flushed against his stomach, and he felt shameless with how open he felt: on his back with his knees spread wide, head thrown back as Snafu bit his way down the column of his throat. His cock twitched when Snafu’s fingers brushed a place inside him that made him gasp, arching down onto Snafu’s hand as he sought it out again. “Right there?” Snafu murmured, and did it again, pressing his fingertips ruthlessly into that spot until Eugene was muffling his cries against his hand as he rocked his hips down against the insistent wet slide of Snafu’s fingers. 

It was overwhelming, a feeling that Eugene had never experienced before, not even close to. Snafu’s breath against his throat, his mouth, his fingers splitting him open until Eugene was shameless with it, panting and pleading for _more_. He imagined being fucked by Snafu, his cock in place of his fingers, and moaned so abruptly that he had to slap his own hand across his mouth.

“Touch yourself.” Snafu said roughly, sliding his fingers briefly from Eugene’s body, to circle up around his balls, the base of his cock, pressing into the skin between his cock and his hole. Eugene groaned, eyes shut against the pleasure, and brought his hand from his mouth to his cock as he began to jerk himself loosely. This was such a step beyond the feel of Snafu’s mouth, something intense and overwhelming, and Eugene could feel his breath catching short in his throat the closer he came to the edge.

“Harder.” He panted, his own voice alien to him. “God, Snafu, please.” He was making helpless noises, like they were being torn from his throat without his volition. His skin felt too small, constricting, and he was flushed down to chest, feverish. 

Snafu worked his fingers harder, and Eugene was almost self conscious of the sound of skin against skin until Snafu ground his fingers into that place inside him that made him melt, and he had to press his face into Snafu’s hair to keep from yelling out loud. His hand stuttered in its strokes on his cock, and then he was coming, hand slick as he kept pumping himself as Snafu’s strokes slowed inside him. He was panting, throat dry, as he came down from it, hips still twitching as he stroked himself slower, drawing it out. Snafu was kissing his neck, biting and messy, and Eugene just put his free hand in his hair, turned his face into his as his orgasm ebbed.

“Jesus,” He cursed, opening his mouth on a gasp as Snafu pulled his fingers out. “Snafu.”

“Yeah,” Snafu murmured, voice rough and big eyes bright in his face as he brushed Eugene’s hair off his forehead. “Jesus. You liked it?”

“Yeah.” Eugene croaked, and Snafu kissed him, long and slow, like he couldn’t believe he was real. His fingers brushed Eugene’s jaw, gentle, and Eugene melted under the touch. 

“Next time,” Snafu said, that low Louisiana drawl so pronounced, “You do me.”

Eugene was just post-orgasm fucked out enough to murmur, “I’ll fuck you next time.” Snafu shivered, and kissed him hard. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He murmured, all thoughts of Eugene’s father chasing him out with a shotgun forgotten, apparently. He pressed his fingers to the hollow of Eugene’s jaw, protective, territorial. 

They didn’t shower together, because it was well past the time Eugene’s parents got up and they’d already pushed it with the sex. Eugene scrubbed at his hair under the hot water, blushing as he steadily realised the things they’d done. Snafu, inside him, it was addictive like a drug he never wanted to give up. 

They ate breakfast with his parents, like they hadn’t spent the night together. Like Snafu hadn’t fingered him to orgasm, like Eugene hadn’t had Snafu’s come in his mouth. He ate a mouthful of grits, answered his mother’s question about how he’d slept as honestly as he could. Yes, he’d slept well, curled around Snafu with his face in the nape of his neck.

His mother knew, his father maybe not. He could tell by the glances she gave the two of them, quietly suspicious and disapproving. But she was a good Southern housewife, and to accuse them was as good as incriminating herself. Instead, she just eyed them over breakfast and tried very hard to act like Snafu wasn’t even there. 

Eugene couldn’t tell if Snafu was hurt by it, since he acted like same as he ever did, but Eugene still wasn’t completely sure what ‘the same’ was for Snafu anyway. Was Snafu acting the same as he did during the war normal? Was that truly his baseline personality, or was it what he put on when he couldn’t quite handle what was going on around him? Eugene thought back to the other night, where Snafu had confessed his fears about them being found out, and thought maybe that _that_ had been the real Snafu. Stripped down to his core emotions, washed over in darkness, protected by it. Or maybe Eugene was trying to puzzle Snafu down to something too one dimensional, wasn’t taking into account all the facets that made up his strange, changeable self.

Either way, Snafu still joked around, smoked, sent barbed comments Eugene’s way with a grin to cushion them. He still kissed him under the cover of night, woke him up slow on the mornings he stayed because he knew better than to do otherwise. The two of them were existing in that odd, liminal space of summer, and Eugene wasn’t sure he ever wanted to return to reality. School was starting again soon, and Snafu had spent so long at his home that it was hard to imagine not having him around. That strange dimension of summer, on top of the odd place they found themselves in, which Eugene could only compare to the year directly after returning home from the war. He didn’t think Snafu had had the recuperation time he’d had, and it showed. 

There were some days where Snafu woke up and straight away he was on high alert, edgy and jumping at every sound. He sat with his back to the wall on those days, wouldn’t ride in the car with Eugene, liked to do nothing but sit on the porch and smoke and survey the lawn like there were enemy soldiers behind every bush and tree. It was hard to be around him, when he was like that. His anxiety spilled over into Eugene, and then he too felt like he needed to watch every face that went by, watch the corners, his every step. It threw him right back into what he just crawled out of, not in an awful way, because now he wasn’t alone in it. He told himself that, that being alone in this heightened sense of self wasn’t good, and tried to stick with Snafu as best he could despite the effect it had on him. 

It was that what he knew his mother, with all her disapproving looks, wouldn’t understand. Snafu was more than a guy he was sweet on, he was a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear that understood intimately what he’d gone through. And Eugene hoped he was the same for Snafu, or least Snafu knew he _could be_ , because he didn’t talk about it unless prompted. There was nothing healthy about shutting it out, and Eugene had learnt that the hard way. Some things need confronting, or else they’d rot inside you forever. This was one of those things, and he wanted more than anything for Snafu to let down his walls built up of carefully feigned indifference and quick sarcastic humour, and exorcise the war as best he could.

When Snafu held Eugene in the aftermath of another nightmare, face pressed to the crown of his head and body curled around him, Eugene thought maybe he was being a hypocrite. Maybe he wasn’t as far along in recovery as he thought, maybe Snafu was truly better off than him because at least he didn’t have these _goddamn_ terrible nightmares. 

“It’s okay, _cher_.” Snafu murmured, making soothing noises as Eugene heaved big, shaky breaths against his chest. It was taking longer to come away from this nightmare, the panic ebbing and flowing in his chest with no sign of respite. “Breathe.” Snafu said, in that uncharacteristically gentle tone he saved for Eugene when he was like this.

He passed his thumbs under Eugene’s eyes to wipe away his tears, and shushed him when the action made him choke out a sob. With the lingering sounds of shelling in his ears, Eugene couldn’t help but think he didn’t deserve this gentleness. Not after everything he’d done and everything he’d seen. Snafu had spent the entire war trying to make it less traumatic for him, and it was all for nothing. 

“I’m sorry.” He gasped, fingers curling in Snafu’s as he held his hand against his chest. Snafu’s eyes were pale and hooded through the darkness, impossibly tired, and that made Eugene feel even guiltier. 

“For what?” He asked, voice low and puzzled, and he leaned back a little as Eugene reorientated himself, settling into a sitting position between Snafu’s thighs. The hollow of his throat shone with sweat in the low light, the cloying heat of August in full force. Eugene pressed his fingers to it, still shuddering with the terror-adrenaline of his nightmare. August. 

“I’m going to leave soon.” He said, voice shaky, and Snafu’s throat bobbed under his fingers as he swallowed. Eugene cast a watery, hopeless glance at him. “And I don’t want it, I don’t want to go back to waking up alone.”

Snafu’s jaw was tight, but he stroked a reassuring hand over Eugene’s bicep, squeezed it comfortingly. “You don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want.”

“This is different.” Eugene whispered. He didn’t know how to word how he felt, all the guilt balled up in his love and appreciation and fear. He didn’t want Snafu to leave for selfish reasons, but also because he was afraid that if Snafu left he would never see him again. Snafu curved his body into his shoulder, pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “I love you.” Eugene said, hopelessly, and Snafu echoed the words into his hair. “Why’s it gotta be like this?” 

He meant the nightmares, the trauma, the guilt inside him and the anger inside Snafu. The shadow of fear they lived in even though the mud of Okinawa was so many years behind them. He meant not being able to enjoy things he used to, because gutted rabbits and gutted humans look the same when it gets down to the viscera. But he also meant the leaving, the secrets, the creeping around in the dead of night and the expression on his mother’s face when Snafu leaned too close. 

“‘Cus life is shitty.” Snafu murmured, thumb stroking over Eugene’s jaw as he turned his face towards him. His eyes were burning in his face, too intense, and Eugene dropped his eyes to the pale knot of scar tissue just below his collarbone. A bullet wound, his own Mark of Cain, and Eugene remembered holding him down so the medic could extract the shot. Eugene could still smell the blood, remembered Snafu’s sweating, pained face. I should’ve been a million dollar wound, if Snafu hadn’t refused to go home. He’d joked about it, afterwards, shown it off like a medal of honour. Eugene wondered what he thought about it now.

“Yeah,” He said dimly. “S’pose you’re right.”

“But just ‘cus it’s shitty doesn’t mean it ain’t worth tryin’.” Snafu said, and Eugene pressed his thumb to Snafu’s scar, silent. 

“Don’t get preachy on me now, Snaf.” He mumbled, eyes losing focus as he stared at his own pale thumb, Snafu’s dark summer tan. 

“Nah, that’s your job.” Snafu said, lightly, and Eugene rolled his eyes. 

He was silent for a moment, organising his thoughts and timing out his breathing by the rise and fall of Snafu’s bare chest. “How often do you think about it?” He asked finally, and when Snafu didn’t reply he said, “The war, I mean.”

When he looked up, Snafu’s eyes were soft on him. “All the goddamn time,” He said, and his smile was melancholy. “Somethin’ like that...it ain’t gonna leave you, Gene. You just gotta put one foot in front of the other and,” He shrugged one shoulder, glanced away. “Try to keep on.”

“Are you?” Eugene asked, and Snafu tilted his head questioningly. “Keeping on?”

Snafu looked uncomfortable, caught out, and for a long minute the only sound in the room was the wail of the grasshoppers outside. “Y’know,” Snafu said, finally. “I never thought I’d ever leave that goddamn island.” Eugene didn’t reply, just tucked his face into Snafu’s neck and waited. He could feel the rumble of his voice when he spoke again, rough and bone-deep tired. “Thought I’d die there, or the war would go on forever.” He snorted. “And then it ended. Just like that. I had to go back out into the world after so long being a piece of _shit_ ,” He exhaled sharply, and brought his hand to the nape of Eugene’s neck, like he had to check he was still there. “Whose days was just killin’ and fightin’ and runnin’, and I had to go out there and be a real person again.”

Eugene closed his eyes, picturing Snafu after the war. Jumping at every noise, hollow eyed and twitchy with that bulk-head stare they’d all had. “It’s tough.” He said, and knew immediately that they hadn’t gone through the same thing. Snafu had been half-mad before Okinawa, transformed into some feral war dog because he _had_ to be. He remembered, a sun-lit afternoon weeks ago, Snafu admitting he never had any qualms killing. How had he managed with _that_ part of himself when he returned to civilian life?

“Yeah,” Snafu said hollowly, “It’s tough. It’s real tough when think you’re gonna die somewhere and then you just,” His fingers twitched on Eugene’s nape. “Keep living. You gotta live with everything you did, all the scars that shit left on you.”

“Did it get better?” Eugene murmured, pulling away from Snafu’s throat to look at him. He was barely there in the darkness, a wiry smudge of darker black, but his eyes shone through. They looked hurt, miles away, stuck in some foxhole in the Pacific with no hope of ever getting out. 

“No,” He croaked, and Eugene was shocked to see the shine of tears in his eyes. “I don’t suppose it did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading !! :^)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for a panic attack/flashback on snafu's part like, straight from the outset of the chapter

The next day dawned too bright and sunny for their conversation the night before, and Snafu went back to watching the shadows, jumping at every odd noise, not replying when Eugene spoke to him. Eugene almost felt sorry for it, that he’d dragged it up, but he thought maybe it was for the best. Judging by how Snafu reacted, he’d never thought hard about the impact of the war, and getting it out in the air was one step forward to healing. That’s what his father had said, anyway, the first time he woke Eugene from a screaming nightmare. Gruffly, in that manner he had, but his hands were kind when he pushed Eugene’s hair back off his sweaty forehead.

The fact that Snafu had never had someone to do that for him was painful.

Snafu slept in Eugene’s bed that night, clung to him like a shadow, and Eugene wasted a long time combing his fingers through his hair, committing him to memory. It seemed like the summer was racing along faster than he realised, and the fact that Snafu would be gone soon ached in his chest like a sickness.

Eugene must have drifted off at some point, because he was awoken in the dark, early hours by Snafu leaning over him. He blinked, tried to push him away as he propped himself up on his elbows, but Snafu pushed him back down with a curse.

“Stay _down_ , Gene.” He breathed, and his eyes were darting around the dark room like he was seeing things. Eugene watched him, silent, noting how his arms that bracketed Eugene were shaking. 

“What’s going on, Snaf?” He asked, slow, like how you might talk to a snarling dog. Snafu shushed him, and then a loud bang erupted outside, and Snafu flinched down into the line of Eugene’s prone body. 

“ _Merde_.” He said, breath catching in his chest as another loud noise broke the silence. The room was lit briefly in a sickly green, and Eugene felt a weight drop into his stomach.

“Snafu,” He murmured, touching his hand to Snafu’s arm. “It’s just fireworks.”

Snafu was shuddering, and his skin under Eugene’s hand was cold, clammy. “Shut up,” He hissed, eyes wild but oddly blank when he glanced down at Eugene. “They’ll hear ya.”

Snafu was ashen under the light of sporadic fireworks, and then Eugene realised. Snafu had never liked the sound of shelling during the war, even less than Eugene himself. Loud noises made him jumpy, and it seemed like the lights and sounds of fireworks had pushed Snafu right back into it. The room lit up red, and Snafu whimpered, a horrible, vulnerable sound, and pressed Eugene back against the mattress. It hurt, his hand pressing too hard into Eugene’s sternum, and he closed his fingers around his wrist to try and get him to budge.

“Snafu, it’s okay,” He muttered, trying to sound as calm as he could. His heart was fluttering under his ribcage, some combination of anxiety and sadness. Snafu’s reaction was half putting him right back into Okinawa, when flares and gunfire lit the battle in flashes of sickly light. “It’s fireworks, I promise. You’re safe.”

“It’s-” Snafu looked down at him then, and his eyes looked straight through him. Eerie and pale and too big in his face, and Eugene had never seen Snafu this scared in his life. “Sledgehammer, there’s people outside shellin’ us.”

“It’s just kids.” He said, and Snafu dropped his head to Eugene’s chest at another crack and burst of light. Eugene cradled his head in his arms as soon as soon as he felt like Snafu wasn’t going to move again, making soothing noises as Snafu panted heavy and harsh and terrified against his collarbones. “I promise, you’re safe.” Eugene repeated, holding Snafu’s head against his chest as he tried to cover his ears with his arms. 

“I can’t-” Snafu’s fingers were digging into Eugene’s waist, almost bruising, and he let out what sounded like a _sob_ at another loud bang. The room lit up red again, and Eugene could see his glassy eyes, the sweat standing out on his forehead. “Where am I?”

His voice sounded so small and frightened that Eugene’s heart ached. “Mobile.” He said. “With me. You turned up like the goddamn lost dog you are, remember?”

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.” Snafu said, miserably, and Eugene manoeuvred the two of them into a sitting position as he hushed him. Snafu was shaking like a leaf, his body so small in Eugene’s arms. He couldn’t work out where this had come from: Snafu had never had this reaction to shelling during the war, had never been _this_ averse to loud noises. Silently, he cursed whoever was setting off fireworks on a goddamn weeknight, at this hour.

“You’re fine,” Eugene said, cradling Snafu’s head against his chest as his shoulders shook with what Eugene suspected were sobs. “You’re okay. We made it out, we made it out.”

Snafu seemed utterly disorientated, but he clung to Eugene like he was a lifeboat in a storm. The last bastion of some safe, sane world. Eugene held him just as tight, face pressed to his sweet, curly head of hair as he rocked him gently. He hoped to God his parents wouldn’t hear, because Snafu had definitely cried out a little too loud at times, but figured they were well used to it by now. 

Snafu’s hand was tight around the dime he had strung around his neck, and Eugene took that as an opening for a distraction. The fireworks were coming further and further apart, but Snafu was still pale and shaking in his lap, mind off somewhere on some island where all they were was cannon fodder. 

“Hey, Snafu, you never told me what this is.” He murmured, and touched the tip of his finger to Snafu’s clenched fist. 

Snafu looked up at him through his lashes, wet with tears, eyes confused but a little less vacant as they had been. Eugene took this as a good sign. Slowly, his hand opened around his necklace, until the dime on it rested on the pad of his thumb. “This?” He asked, voice very far away. 

“Yeah,” Eugene murmured, and scratched his nails at Snafu’s scalp just the way he knew he liked. “I’ve been wondering about it.”

A firework popped overhead, and Snafu flinched, a full body thing. When he flicked his eyes up to meet Eugene’s, they were cautious. He licked his lips, bit down on them as he frowned. “It’s a dime.” He said, voice croaky. “‘S for good luck.”

“Another superstition?” Eugene asked, and smiled even though he didn’t feel it. He could feel it wavering on his face, the pit in his stomach dragging it down, but Snafu nodded, curled into his arms further.

“Yeah,” He murmured, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. The markings on it were almost worn out, and Eugene desperately tried to remember if he could remember Snafu wearing it during the war. “Mama gave it to be before I left,” He swallowed, cast his eyes to the window. The fireworks were dying down, and the process of talking seemed to be easing his nerves slightly. “”S meant to ward off evil.” He rolled his eyes. “Fat lot of good it did me.”

Eugene found himself amused by all of Snafu’s rituals and superstitions, despite the circumstances. “So,” He said. “You a religious man?”

“Save that for you.” Snafu said darkly, flinching at another loud firework. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. “Just a seventh son of a seventh son with a healthy sense of superstition.” 

“Shit.” Eugene said mildly, trying his hardest to sound normal for Snafu’s sake. “Seven?”

“The youngest of.” Snafu said, voice more even now, despite how tense he was. 

Eugene snorted, and Snafu glance his way was cautious. “Figures.” He said, “No wonder you’re a brat.”

Snafu stared at him for a moment, like he was a step behind the conversation. “Yeah, well,” He murmured, spacey but not panicking, “Someone’s gotta be.”

Eugene laughed, and it was a little stilted, but so was Snafu’s brief, answering smile. “Any magical healing powers?” Eugene asked, parroting some old movie he’d seen once about magic seventh sons. Snafu exhaled slowly, a shaky breath, and then tensed up in the next moment when another firework shattered the quiet. He shook his head, hard, like he was trying to dislodge whatever part of him was bleeding over with fear.

“Doesn’t look like it.” He murmured eventually, voice faded and sad. He looked smaller like this, all deflated and afraid and curled into Eugene’s chest. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palms, and groaned. “Wish I did.”

“Hey,” Eugene said, gentle like he was trying to coax a frightened cat. He laid his hand against Snafu’s cheek, which was flushed and warm to his touch. A firework lit the room blue, and in the light Snafu’s eyes were big in his face, darting. “Hey, c’mon, pull it back.”

“I don’t know how to.” Snafu said, a half-gasp, pressing a hand to his sternum as if he could hold his heart still. His eyes flicked to Eugene’s and then back to his silent watching of the sky outside. “‘S different bein’ on this side of the nightmares.”

“What d’you mean?” Eugene asked, and Snafu just shook his head. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat under the light sheen of sweat there, and shook his head again. “You’re awake, Snaf, you’re not having a nightmare.”

“Sure feels like one.” Snafu said shortly, and he was rubbing the dime between his forefinger and thumb again. The fireworks were going off in volleys now, like a grand finale, and Eugene felt helpless as he watched Snafu curl in on himself under the noise and the flashing lights. He pressed his hand to the centre of Snafu’s back, rubbed in slow, wide circles as Snafu shook.

“Tell me what you see.” He murmured, and waited until Snafu raised his face from his hands to look at him.

“What?” Snafu croaked, and Eugene jerked his head to the side.

“The room. Tell me what’s here.”

Snafu looked lost, eyes glazed, and he took a quick glance around the room before turning back to Eugene. “I don’t-”

“It’ll help.” Eugene assured him, “Trust me.”

Snafu stared at him for a long minute, the silence only broken by some shouts outside. Maybe the fireworks were over now, Eugene could only hope. All he could make out was the whites of Snafu’s eyes, the smudge of his features, and he extended his hand to where Snafu had moved away from him a little. Their fingers touched, and then Snafu looked away. “Dresser,” He said, voice thin and accent heavy. Eugene felt relief curl through him. “Nightstand. My boots.”

His breaths evened out the longer he took in his surroundings, and slowly, sweetly, he linked his fingers with Eugene’s. When he ran out of things to say, he repeated them, voice growing steadier with each word. Eugene sat and listened to him, tried to keep his drooping eyelids open. Now that the panic had passed, he was beginning to realise how tired he was. More than anything, though, he was somehow even more grateful for Snafu dealing with him after his nightmares. The sickly anxiety that Eugene had gotten just from listening to Snafu; it was hard. He couldn’t imagine having to do it again twice in a month, let alone a fortnight, a week. 

Snafu let himself be laid back down, tucked his head against Eugene’s chest when he curled his body around him. It was too hot for sheets, the air heavy and thick with heat, but Snafu stayed. 

“Thank you.” He murmured, and his fingers stroked comforting patterns into the skin of Eugene’s back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Eugene said, voice a half-slur of exhaustion. “Anything, for you.” Tiredness and relief were making him say things he normally wouldn’t, but he felt suddenly so lucky to have Snafu next to him, he couldn’t stop. “I love you.”

Snafu brought his hands to Eugene’s face, thumbs stroking behind his ears as he studied him through the low light. His eyes weren’t afraid like they had been, but he looked exhausted to his core, glazed and barely-there. “I love you too.” He murmured, soft like a prayer, and kissed him once, a soft graze of lips. “I love you, I love you.” He breathed out against Eugene’s mouth, like a mantra, like something so overwhelming he had to repeat it. “God, Gene, _cher_ , I ain’t used to this but-” He cut himself off, and kissed Eugene again.

Maybe this was enough, Eugene thought. Snafu’s big, gentle, deadly hands on his face, his love so tangible Eugene could almost taste it, like the sweat on his throat and the cigarettes on his breath. To think that either of them could heal each other was silly, boyish daydreaming, and Eugene hadn’t been innocent enough for that for years. Maybe it was enough to be able to hold each other up through whatever came their way, and to be able to come out the other side ready, and able, to love so fiercely it hurt. Right in his chest, like a tiny burning flame, a hurt so sweet that Eugene didn’t ever want to not feel it. 

\------

A week or so later, Snafu put his mouth to Eugene’s ear and breathed, “Fuck me.” So Eugene did.

The Vaseline was cool against his leg as he pushed into the heat of Snafu’s body with a gasp. Snafu dropped his head back, fingertips digging into Eugene’s sides as he opened his mouth on a silent moan. The rings under his eyes were dark, and Eugene kissed him until he was breathless with it, begging him in a low voice to move. Eugene found himself incapable of denying Snafu anything, and ground his hips forward, slow. 

He kissed Snafu, his jaw, his throat, his stubbly cheeks, his eyelids. Thrust into him until Snafu was sighing at every movement, his cock hard and flushed against his belly as he took everything Eugene could give to him. He wanted to give him everything, wanted to make him feel so good he cried, and his hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, the air in the room so close he could barely breathe. Snafu pulled him down to kiss him, sloppy and aching for it, and he panted Eugene’s name into his hair as Eugene tucked his face into Snafu’s throat and drove deeper into him.

Snafu was just this pouty little thing, and he didn’t even know it. It lit a fire in Eugene’s belly, wild and untameable, a forest fire under the confines of his skin. Snafu had a mean mouth and a violent streak a mile wide, smoked like a goddamn chimney, but it was plain to see. Wreckable, pliant, pretty and bronzed and arching with a gasp with every movement of Eugene’s hips. Eugene wanted to ruin him, he wanted to eat him whole, and he knew that Snafu would let him. He pushed Snafu’s head back with a thumb to his chin, and Snafu gasped when he pressed his other thumb to his windpipe.

“Choke me, choke me, _cher_.” He begged, and Eugene closed his hands around his throat and Snafu moaned, chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for breath. It was overwhelming, seeing Snafu so at his mercy, and he thrust into the tight heat of Snafu’s body as he tightened his fingers.

Snafu came messy over his belly almost as soon as Eugene touched him, and moaned through the oversensitivity as Eugene fucked him until he finished. Afterwards, they lay together, a sweaty heap with their heads close together, passing a cigarette back and forth.

“Missus Sledge would die if she knew we were smokin’ in her house.” Snafu murmured, and he sounded sleepy and sated, his eyes fond when he glanced at Eugene. His hair was even curlier than usual, and Eugene ran his fingers through it with a grin.

“She’d die if she knew anything we got up to in this room.” He replied, and tugged lightly on Snafu’s hair. “If you want I can tidy this up for you.”

Snafu exhaled a cloud of smoke, turned his face into Eugene’s hair with a laugh. “Take me back to military grade, Private. I need it.”

“I’m not much of a barber.” Eugene said, but he still let Snafu drag him into the bathroom and arm him with a pair of kitchen scissors. 

“Just do it.” Snafu said, sticking a cigarette between his lips and kicking the door shut with his foot. “Remember how we used to do it for each other durin’ the war?” He tossed his lighter into the sink and exhaled out of the corner of his mouth. “Muscle memory.”

“These ain’t gonna do much good.” Eugene said, eyeing up the heavy kitchen scissors, but motioned for Snafu to take a seat on the edge of the bath anyway. He straddled it, and Eugene took a seat behind him, grateful for their difference in height.

Eugene had forgotten how relaxing it was, oddly intimate as he ran his hands through Snafu’s overgrown curls. He had to pull the hair out straight to cut it, and took pleasure in how the hair sprang right back. Snafu smoked silently, eyes half-closed under Eugene’s touch.

“‘S nice.” He murmured, and tilted his head to the side lazily as he took a drag off his cigarette. “Always been a gentle touch, Gene.”

“It’s a lot easier to be when your hair ain’t matted with rifle oil and god knows what else.” Eugene said, focused on the task in front of him. Snafu hummed in agreement, brushed an errant clump of hair off his lap. 

The air in the room was close with the heat of the day, blue with smoke. Eugene clipped away at Snafu’s hair until it was close to resembling something respectable, and brushed his thumb down the bumps of Snafu’s spine, over his bare shoulders. “All done.” He said, and bent to press a kiss to the top of Snafu’s head. “All you need is your dress blues.”

Snafu snorted, and leaned back to kiss Eugene briefly before standing. “Never wore ‘em.” He said, turning his head this way and that as he examined himself in the mirror. He tugged at his hair, lip caught between his teeth, and then grinned. “Not a bad job, Sledgehammer.”

“I guess I’ll drop out of college and pursue my dream of being a military barber now, huh?” Eugene said, and Snafu laughed. He looked sweet and boyish, younger with his hair shorter and a grin on his face. Eugene stood to kiss him, feeling oddly daring with only the barrier of the door between them and the rest of the house. Somehow, his room always felt safer. He ran his hand down Snafu’s wiry, brown arm, caught his hand in his. “You look handsome.” He murmured, and Snafu laughed against his mouth.

“Thanks to you.”

\------

Eugene packed his pipe with a practised hand, swishing his bare feet in the water as he listened to Snafu hum along to some song in his head. The forest was deep dark around them, the only light from the moon and the fireflies. They’d stolen away, to come smoke and talk and put their feet in the stream. It was August 21st, and Eugene was returning to school in a week. Melancholy had lodged itself into his ribs like a knife, and he found himself taking every opportunity he could to drink Snafu in, to memorise him before they had to part. He heard the sound of a flask coming unscrewed, and then the humming cut short as Snafu took a drink.

“What’s that song?” He asked, and when he glanced up from his task Snafu was grinning, leaning back on his palms as he watched the fireflies. Their tiny specks of light were like pinpricks in the fabric of the world, the light of some secret place shining through. 

Snafu shrugged, lazy, and tipped his cheek against his shoulder to watch Eugene light his pipe. “Don’t know.” He murmured. “Heard it on the radio.”

“You’re not a good singer.” Eugene mumbled around the mouthpiece, and felt his mouth twitch in a smile when Snafu tipped his head back and laughed. 

“I don’t believe you’re any good either, boo.”

“You’d be right.” Eugene said, and Snafu snorted and kicked a little water at his legs. “Settle down, Snaf.”

They lapsed into silence, and Snafu pulled a cigarette out and lit it, seemingly content to just absorb the quiet of the woods, watch the fireflies. Eugene watched his face, his shadowed profile, the sweet slope of his nose, the pout of his mouth. His heart ached. 

“Hey, Snaf,” Eugene murmured, and Snafu shifted his gaze wordlessly to him. Those eerie green eyes against the twisting blackness of the forest was preternatural, and Eugene swallowed as he stared at him. It reminded him of sharing a foxhole, flares overhead throwing Snafu’s face into sharp relief every time. “You remember how we used to have screaming matches?”

Snafu laughed loudly, the noise ringing through the silent woods. He took another swig off the flask, before passing it off to Eugene. “Gene, you got the ability to get on my goddamn nerves like nothing else.”

Eugene took a drink, grimacing at the burn of whiskey, and then another before he spoke. “You used to drive me crazy.” His voice was rough from the whiskey, and he glanced at Snafu with a grin. “You’ve just never learned when to back down from a fight.”

Snafu grinned and shot off a lazy salute Eugene’s way. “I’ll take that as a compliment, boo.”

They settled back into comfortable silence, passing the flask back and forth as they mused on it. Snafu was kicking his feet in the stream, and the gentle lapping sounds of water against the bank were loud in the darkness. Eugene wondered when he’d grown comfortable in the dark woods again, when his mind had decided to surrender the compulsion to always be on high alert whenever he came into the forest. Neither Okinawa or Peleliu had been densely wooded, but there was always just something about dark, outside spaces that set his teeth on edge, now.

But here, with Snafu warm and solid at his side, his fear faded a little. The whiskey was hitting him, spreading warm from his stomach all the way to his fingertips. His mind turned back to the arguments that he and Snafu used to have, spitting nasty things back and forth just because they were tired and hungry and cold, and goddamn terrified. Towards the end, everyone had started getting a little ugly with each other. It was hard not to lash out when you were keeping everything you’d seen bottled up like that. Especially in Okinawa, where the things Eugene had seen would be enough to turn a man’s hair white. 

Whiskey made him morose as a rule, and so he wasn’t surprised when his thoughts turned, as they usually liked to, back to Okinawa. The inexcusable things he did there haunted him in the true sense of the word, in his sleep, even in waking nightmares. He remembered vividly, after he saw Sid’s new baby for the first time, violently flashing back to the infant he and Snafu had found that grey morning in Okinawa. For a moment, he was back there, breathing the smell of dead bodies and mud. The child, screaming on the ground, and his mother: probably killed by Eugene’s shell. He swallowed, puffed on his pipe a little to get it re-lit.

“Snafu,” He said, suddenly, and waited for Snafu’s hum of acknowledgment before he spoke again, “Do you think we’re going to hell?”

The words dropped fat and heavy into the silence, and when Eugene stole a sidelong glance at Snafu, he was frowning at the flask in his hands. The dime around his neck winked in the moonlight, the talisman that had gotten him through the war and out the other side. What had been Eugene’s talisman?

“...For yellin’ at each other?” Snafu said eventually, and threw a confused look Eugene’s way. Eugene stared at him.

“Snafu.” He said in a low voice. “No.”

Snafu stared at him for a moment longer, and then his expression cleared as understanding bloomed. “Gene,” He said, seriously, brow wrinkled as he stared at a point just past Eugene’s shoulder. “Ain’t no God gonna judge you for what war makes you do.” His eyes refocused, and Eugene let himself be caught in his gaze, like a rabbit in front of a wolf. “You did the best you could and you weren’t half as goddamn mean as the rest of them.”

“What I did, though. It’s not right, no matter what situation it is.” He worried his pipe in his hands, the wood still warm against his skin. “You gotta rise above it but I just let it drag me down.”

The corners of Snafu’s mouth were turned down, and it looked very much like he grappling with what he wanted to say. He had never been an eloquent man, and the fact that he was trying so hard to verbalise however he justified the war to himself made Eugene feel tender. “War gets you all,” He waved his hand in the air, frowning at his knees. “Twisted up.” He glanced up, caught Eugene in that gaze again. “You get so messed up it ain’t even you in there anymore. It’s like someone else is pulling the strings, and you’re somewhere in there just tryna do what you can to not go completely Asiatic.”

It wasn’t much of a comfort, but Snafu was looking at him with his expression all pinched and concerned, and Eugene thought maybe that if someone could care about him that much he couldn’t be completely evil. Even if that person was Snafu, who’d looted dead bodies and killed right alongside him. He leaned his shoulder against Snafu’s, watched the fireflies weave over the water. “Thanks.” He said, and Snafu’s hand snuck onto his lap to curl his fingers around Eugene’s. He thought about the dying woman in that hut, and hoped that if there was a heaven she’d get there over him.

“You just shouldn’t beat yourself up about it like you’re the only one who’s ever killed someone.” Snafu mumbled, tucking his head into the space between Eugene’s shoulder and neck. “It just ain’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” Eugene replied, and squeezed Snafu’s fingers. He took a drink from the flask, sitting open between his thighs, and passed it to Snafu. There was the slosh of liquid, and Eugene turned his face into Snafu’s hair. “I just want it to hurt less.”

Snafu stuck the flask between his legs, and straightened up so he could cup Eugene’s face in his hands. His eyes were hooded, the line of his mouth sweet and worried as he chewed on his lip. “I wanna make it hurt less.” He murmured, thumbs stroking over Eugene’s cheekbones. “I’m gonna make it hurt less.”

Eugene half turned away, throat getting tight with the sudden rush of feeling that went through him at Snafu’s words. His eyes burned with tears, and he blinked fiercely to stop them falling, to no avail. It was overwhelming, the extent that Snafu always consistently went to in order to ease his conscience. Undeserved, but still overwhelming in how earnest it was. He groaned and shook his hand from Snafu’s to press the heels of his hands to his eyes. They came away wet, the alcohol soaking into the love in his chest until he thought for sure it would grow so big it’d suffocate him.

Snafu rested a hand on his knee, and Eugene blurted, “I want you to come with me.”

Silence. Heavy and dense in Eugene’s ears like cotton wool. He didn’t dare look at Snafu, just stared at his feet in the water and blinked away the wetness from his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say it, but it’d been on the tip of his tongue for weeks now. He hadn’t said it for so many reasons. It was selfish, for one, to make Snafu uproot from New Orleans for him. It was presumptuous, silly, some stupid flight of fancy. He was so sure that Snafu would never say yes, he was so difficult, and stubborn as a mule on top of it. 

Snafu cleared his throat, and Eugene braced for the teasing. Instead, Snafu’s voice was cautious when he said, “Where?”

“California.” Eugene said, quick before he could psych himself out with it. “San Francisco.”

He chanced a look at Snafu when he didn’t reply, and he was looking at him with a lopsided half-grin on his face. “Are you pullin’ my leg, Gene?” His eyes flicked over Eugene’s face, smile dropping slightly. “You want me there?” His tone shifted, like he couldn’t believe Eugene could want him to stay.

Eugene gaped at him, grabbed at his wrist like physical contact could show him how sincerely he wanted to him stay. “I love you.” He breathed, and Snafu tipped his chin up, gazed at Eugene through hooded eyes. “I love you, I love you, I want you with me always. We can get away from everyone who knows us and we could live how we should.” He said in a rush, and squeezed his fingers around Snafu’s bony wrist. “Together.”

Snafu’s face had gone from carefully impassive to almost _upset_ , his mouth pressed into a flat line. “Gene,” He murmured, eyes dropping to Eugene’s pale hand around his wrist. “Think about this.” His eyes were imploring when he glanced back up. “Are you sure you want this?” The unspoken _me?_ hung in the air between them, and Eugene took his hand in both of his, squeezed his fingers.

“All I want is for us to give it a real shot.” He waved a hand in the direction of the distant house. “Not under the eyes of my parents, or the Marines, just us doing our best.”

Snafu looked torn for a moment, eyes searching Eugene’s face like he expected to find a lie, or an ulterior motive, there. He must not have found one, because slowly, like something wonderful blooming, a small, hopeful smile began to spread on his face. “You mean that?” He said, in that voice like blackstrap molasses, dark and slow and sweet in its hope.

Eugene grinned, something uncurling intense in his chest, filling him up until he was brimming with it. “It’s been hurting me this whole damn time knowing you’d have to go, but,” His voice was croaky with emotion, and Snafu was grinning full force now. “What if you didn’t?”

Snafu laughed, a loud, sharp noise, before he surged forward to pull Eugene into a tight embrace. “Fuck,” He muttered, voice shaky and elated in Eugene’s ear as he held him close, rocked him from side to side. “You _goddamn_ fool. Of course I will.” He leaned back a little, grin so wide Eugene could see his pointy eye teeth. “I’ll pick up a job in the city, we’ll get a place-” 

Eugene cut him off with a kiss, clumsy and messy because neither of them could stop grinning. Snafu tasted like the whiskey they’d been sharing, like cigarettes, and Eugene fisted his hands in the back of his shirt as he held him ever closer. He felt tears prick at the backs of his eyes, and laughed and wiped them away as Snafu pressed kisses to everywhere he could reach. 

“Snafu.” He mumbled, and Snafu drew away from his throat and let him pull him into another, gentler hug. His chest felt tight with happiness for the first time in too long, and he pressed his face to Snafu’s crown as he grinned, breathing in his familiar smell. He kissed his hair, and his forehead, hands slipping into place as he cupped his jaw and kissed him again, tenderly, softly. 

“Good thing I found nothin’ to keep me in New Orleans.” Snafu murmured, when Eugene leaned away to look at him. His eyes were closed, a smile curving his mouth, and Eugene stroked his thumb over his lower lip reverently.

“Yeah,” He breathed, voice thin with emotion, love and happiness blocking his throat and his words. “A good thing.”

He kissed him, and Snafu curled his hand in the front of his shirt, a silent _mine_ that rang through Eugene’s body, clear as a bell and as warm as their Alabama summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much for reading!!! and ty for everyone's wonderful comments ur all true blue this fic is my baby i'm glad u all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! i'm on tumblr @ getmean if anyone wants to find me

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! my tumblr is @ getmean if u wanna hmu , i'll post the end probably in a week :^) !! 
> 
> comments are ALWAYS ! encouraging :^) title is from flyweight love by vienna teng which is THE sledgefu song to end all sledgefu songs


End file.
